


Inmates

by mad_martha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Action, Angst, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 01:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_martha/pseuds/mad_martha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry loses his trial in <i>Order of the Phoenix</i> and is expelled from Hogwarts.  From then on events take a rather different turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry felt numb. He could hear the voices speaking over his head without the sense of the words fully penetrating the fog that seemed to have settled in his mind.

"Oh Harry!"

"Bloody hell, mate ...."

"But there must be some mistake - he's just a boy, he was attacked .... Arthur?"

"There's no mistake. I can't believe they expelled him - it was a full criminal court, the whole Wizengamot was there. I must speak to Dumbledore ...."

"We should just blow up Fudge's office ...."

"Harry? _Harry!_ "

A rough hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him around - hands gripped his shoulders -

Sirius. His face was more alive than Harry had seen it since the events after the Tri-Wizard Tournament and his grey eyes were searching Harry's face anxiously.

"Harry, it'll be all right," he said urgently. "There are things we can do - appeals, maybe even get you into another school. Just hang on and don't panic, all right?"

"They snapped my wand." Harry was surprised he was even able to squeeze the words out. His lips felt as numb as his brain, and his voice sounded tiny and stricken even to his own ears.

Sirius's grip tightened. "Harry ...."

Lupin appeared at Sirius's side, reaching a hand out to squeeze Harry's shoulder too. "Wands can be replaced," he said, his tone just as urgently reassuring. "Sirius is right - there are things we can do, Harry. The most important thing is not to panic. Let's talk to Dumbledore first and see where we can go from here."

"Ollivander won't replace his wand without a permit from the Ministry," Tonks's voice said in the background. "You know how strict he is."

Lupin shot an annoyed look at her. "Wands can be _replaced_ ," he repeated sharply. "Ollivander isn't the only wand-maker in the world and there's more than one way to get around the permit issue too, if we have to. Molly, is there any fresh tea? I'm sure Harry would feel better for a hot drink."

Mrs. Weasley started. "Yes - yes, of course." She hurried over to the kitchen range and grabbed the kettle, clearly glad of something to do.

"Arthur, let's go and contact Dumbledore now, shall we? Although I wouldn't be surprised if he's already on his way here. Sirius ...."

The two men exchanged a long look and Sirius nodded slightly.

"Come on, Harry, let's take our tea outside."

xXx

The tea was scalding hot but Harry clung to his cup and sipped at it anyway, desperate for something to work against the tightness in his throat and chest.

"It _will_ be okay," Sirius told him quietly.

They were sitting together on the stone steps above the scruffy, overgrown patch of garden at the rear of the house. The red brick walls surrounding it were high enough to block out all the other houses around, but the late morning sun reached over to them and made the steps a warm place to be. Sirius cupped his mug in his hands and rested his forearms on his knees. Harry noticed, not for the first time, that although he was no longer wearing his prison rags, the clothes he wore were looked like someone else's two-decade-old cast-offs; but for the first time, knowing more about Sirius's background, he wondered how he must feel to be living on other people's charity. Sirius had money and he could even access it, thanks to the curious business amorality of Gringotts, but spending it was another matter. But perhaps clothes and such didn't matter to him after Azkaban. There were more important things to worry about after all and Harry realised that he would find out what those things were for himself soon enough.

"I know it must seem like the end of the world," Sirius said, "but you're alive and you haven't been locked up." He gave Harry a small smile. "We can work with that."

"But what will I do?" Harry felt his throat closing again and fought it almost angrily. "They snapped my wand - "

"They snapped mine too. As Remus said, there are ways of getting you another wand and that's really quite a small detail."

"But I can't go back to school." Harry looked down at his mug for a second then up at his godfather again, eyes urgent. " _Can_ I stay here with you? I - I can't go back to the Dursleys. They wouldn't have me back anyway and even if they did ...."

"Relax," Sirius told him, smiling slightly. "I can't make you any promises, you know that. But I'm going to be fighting for you to stay here with me until we sort this situation out, and I'm sure Remus will be too. We can appeal the decision."

Harry looked down at his mug again. "Appeals take ages, don't they? They do in Muggle courts."

"I don't know. It'll take as long as Cornelius Fudge can drag it out, I suppose." Sirius's voice was grim for a moment. "But it has to be tried. We want you back at school legally, if possible."

"I'd feel better if I could stay here until then," Harry said.

"I know - _I'd_ feel better with you here. Blood protection be damned - I can think of several ways Voldemort could get you out of your aunt's house if he wanted to. You're safer here, I don't care what anyone says. The business with the Dementors proves that."

"I wonder what Dumbledore will do," Harry said after a moment.

"We'll find out soon enough, don't worry."

"He'll want me to go back to the Dursleys."

"Maybe. Try not to get ahead of things and start second-guessing. Let Moony and Arthur talk to him first."

There was a long silence. Harry was still struggling to take in that this had happened to him at all.

"They snapped my wand," he found himself repeating. He could feel Sirius's eyes on him, sympathising. Inconsequentially he added, "It was a good wand."

"Good enough to almost get you killed?"

Harry looked up, shocked, and found Sirius smiling at him a little grimly.

"That wand had a direct link to Voldemort," his godfather reminded him. "It saved your life six weeks ago because it took him by surprise, but he knows what that link can do now. Maybe you're better off without it. A fresh wand, a clean start."

"But where will I get another one?"

"You'd be surprised. Where do you think I got this one?" And Sirius pulled his own wand out of his sleeve briefly. "At the end of the day a wand is just a tool, Harry. Don't let the mysticism everyone likes to surround them with fool you or make you overly sentimental. It was a good tool, an excellent start to your career as a wizard, but now you have to move on. When you choose your next wand you'll need to bear in mind your changed circumstances and what you'll need to use it for in the future."

The kitchen door opened and Lupin stepped out. "Sirius, will you join us, please? Dumbledore's here."

"Good." Sirius got up. "Where is he?"

"In the drawing room - no, you stay here for now, Harry."

Harry subsided back onto the steps, feeling a familiar flicker of anger. Once again he was being ignored and excluded -

Lupin's quick smile took the sting away. "It's not because we think you don't have a right to say anything," he said. He threw a knowing look at Sirius and winked at Harry. "It's just that I think there's going to be some shouting and you might as well enjoy your tea in peace until that's over."

Sirius snorted defiantly. "We won't be long, Harry."

They went inside and Harry was left alone, but not for long. After a few minutes the kitchen door opened again and Hermione and Ron slipped out. They sat down on either side of him and Harry found himself staring into his mug again.

"Dumbledore's here," Ron said.

"Yeah, I know."

"I'll bet there's something he can do."

Harry had to fight down the urge to speak sharply. "Didn't work too well this morning, did it?"

"They can't really expel you for defending yourself, though," Hermione said in a tentative tone.

The aggravation surged a little higher. "Hermione, they already _have_."

"But there were Dementors - "

"They didn't believe that, even when Dumbledore got Mrs. Figg to testify."

"There's got to be something we can do," Ron said, after an awkward pause. "What do they think you're going to do - go back to the Dursleys and be a Muggle?"

"I reckon that's exactly what Fudge wants," Harry said grimly.

"You can't _be_ a Muggle though," Hermione pointed out. "Even though they've snapped your wand, that doesn't stop you having magic. It could be dangerous for you to live among Muggles with no wand, especially at this stage in your education. Our magic starts to develop more between the ages of thirteen and twenty, and everything is arranged at school to cope with that. If you're out in the world accidents could happen, even if you're not using magic."

"Maybe that's what they want," Ron said, then he looked as though he wished he hadn't said it.

"That's probably true," Harry replied. His fingers tightened on his mug. "Fudge'd love it if I did something bad, some kind of magic I couldn't control. I reckon he wouldn't mind sending me to Azkaban."

"Would the Dursleys take you in anyway?" Hermione asked anxiously. "A summer holiday is one thing, but full-time ...."

Harry didn't want to think about this because while he knew his aunt and uncle would hate having him there all the time, he had a suspicion that Dumbledore had mysterious ways and means of compelling them to do it anyway. Having to live with them full-time was too unbearable to think about.

"I won't do it," he said, in a voice that came out very tight and small even to his own ears.

"But where else can you go?" Hermione asked.

"I'll stay here with Sirius."

His eyes were still on his mug, so he couldn't see the look Ron and Hermione exchanged over his head - but he knew anyway.

"I don't know that they'll go for that, mate," Ron said hesitantly. "It took ages for Sirius to persuade Dumbledore to let you come and stay this summer anyway."

"I don't care!" Harry exploded, looking up. "I'm not going back to the Dursleys, okay? I'm not. I _won't_."

xXx

"There are two major difficulties attendant upon mounting an appeal in Harry's defence," Professor Dumbledore said quietly, looking around at the assembled adults. For once the optimistic twinkle was missing from his pale blue eyes. "Firstly, the appeal must be made by his parents or guardians. For obvious reasons, Harry's true legal guardian - " he inclined his head towards Sirius, "cannot make the appeal himself, and it would be exceptionally dangerous for someone else even to file the paperwork on his behalf. Therefore we are obliged to fall back upon Harry's secondary guardians, his aunt and uncle."

"I'd like to be a fly on the wall for _that_ conversation," Sirius said grimly. "Better still, if you were to let me speak to them - "

"Aside from the obvious answer to that, Sirius, the aim is to gain their _cooperation_ ," Lupin cut in firmly. "I really doubt Petunia has forgotten meeting you at James and Lily's wedding. And let's not forget that your escape from Azkaban was publicised in the Muggle media as well as our own. The Dursleys know you're an escaped convict and their own law enforcement people are aware that you're still on the run. One telephone call and you'll be back in the hands of the Aurors before you know it."

Sirius scowled but subsided. After a moment Dumbledore looked Lupin.

"Remus, may I place this matter in your hands? A little care and tact may prevail upon Mrs. Dursley, especially as I know you can be relied upon to present an ... unchallenging appearance. Much of the Dursleys' antagonism is because they fear our differences. And perhaps Arthur could be of assistance."

Lupin nodded to Arthur Weasley. "We'll sort out a time and pay them a visit."

"Excellent. The second difficulty in the appeal process is the length of time it takes," Dumbledore continued. "It may well be the New Year before we achieve a resolution and in these unsettled times we cannot guarantee that the result will be what we hope for even then. Harry must have somewhere to live in the meantime and we cannot afford to neglect his education. The obvious answer to the first detail is to return him to his relatives - "

There was an instant storm of protest from his audience, of which Sirius and Molly Weasley were the loudest.

"Those _dreadful_ people - his clothes! And he was as thin as a broom handle when he got here!" Mrs. Weasley cried. "Albus, please at least let the poor boy stay with us for the rest of the summer, so I can get a few square meals into him!"

"You can't seriously mean to send him back to them at _all!_ " Sirius protested. "He'd get a warmer reception in Azkaban! Besides, he should be here with me - "

"Harry is safest under his aunt's roof," Dumbledore said sharply. "While I deplore the Dursleys' lack of regard for him as much as any of you, the blood protection afforded by his mother's sacrifice cannot be duplicated by ordinary spells, and his physical and magical safety is paramount - especially now!"

But Sirius didn't back down. "With respect, Dumbledore, the blood protection only holds inside any _dwelling_ where Lily's blood kindred live. You explained that quite clearly to me at the beginning of last summer. By that logic, Harry is only protected while he's inside the house and it won't help him if, say, someone sends a couple of Dementors after him while he's out and about." He stared fiercely at the Headmaster for a moment. "I can think of a dozen schemes to get around the blood protection. I'll bet Voldemort could think of a dozen more if he felt like it - starting with killing the Dursleys outright. What's to stop him? Once Petunia's dead, Harry's up the creek."

"The blood protection applies to Petunia and her family as well," Dumbledore replied dryly. "They are Lily Potter's kindred."

"Great. That doesn't change the fact that Harry's still vulnerable outside the house. Are you planning to lock him indoors for the next four or five months?"

"Sirius ..." Lupin said warningly.

Sirius shot an angry look at him. "What? I know you all think I'm half insane, irresponsible and unreliable, but I'm damned if you'll shut me up about this - _someone_ has to say the things that Harry can't say for himself, Moony! He's scared, he's angry, he's alone and he has damn little control over his own life - if we send him back to those people, to be locked up inside that boxy little house with an aunt and uncle who despise him and that _monster_ cousin of his, God only knows what he'll do. I know what I want to do, locked up here with my mother's bloody portrait and that dog-turd masquerading as a house-elf - "

" _Sirius!_ "

Sirius fell silent, looking furious.

"He has a point, Headmaster," Lupin said, before anyone else could respond to the tirade. "As far as protections go, I can't see why the Dursleys have any significant edge over this house. Harry will always be at risk there because of the dangers of trying to contain him inside a very small building without appropriate magical supervision. All the Dursleys can do is lock him in his room, which isn't practical in the long term. At least here he has a little more room to move about, there are always well-prepared adults around, and the building is effectively invisible as far as anyone but members of the Order are concerned. And the threat to the Dursleys themselves will be reduced almost to nothing with Harry out of their house."

"And what about teaching him?" Tonks asked unexpectedly. "How's that to be managed if he's living in the middle of a Muggle housing estate in Surrey? It's going to be hard enough getting him another wand."

Dumbledore seemed to fall into contemplation of the tarnished light-fittings on the opposite wall for a while. Finally he sighed very softly and returned his attention to the faces before him.

"These are all very valid points," he admitted. "Forgive me, Sirius - I had no intention of implying that your suggestions were invalid. It is only that there are very many other things to consider already, and I had not planned for having to completely rethink security and schooling for Harry at this stage. But you are absolutely right. We cannot ask a young man of his age to submit to being caged for an indefinite period, we cannot possibly continue his magical education under such circumstances, and the risks of him being attacked outside of the Dursley household are indeed great." He paused. "But equally we cannot fool ourselves into believing this house will remain secure indefinitely either."

"He can stay here until other arrangements can be made, though," Sirius said. "And if we can get him a wand, it'll be safe enough to teach him here too."

" _Who_ will teach him, though?" Molly Weasley demanded, eyeing him with unconcealed distrust.

"Moony and me," Sirius replied promptly.

"Nonsense, Sirius! You're not a teacher and - "

"Moony is," Sirius said, visibly hanging on to his temper.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts! What about all the other disciplines? You're neither of you qualified professors - "

"We don't have to be," Lupin pointed out, provoked against his better judgement. "We're not applying for jobs at Hogwarts, we're trying to keep Harry's education in hand until we can return him to a proper seat of learning, that's all. We both of us passed our NEWTs comfortably in Charms and Transfiguration - "

" _Comfortably?_ " Sirius said scornfully. "You, James and I were in the top five for Transfiguration and Charms, and the top ten for just about everything else!"

"Not in Potions, we weren't!"

"Ah well - _Potions_ ," Sirius said dismissively.

"It's just as well I passed _my_ Potions and Herbology NEWTs then, isn't it?" Molly said crossly. Then she looked a little taken aback at herself.

"I'm up on Arithmancy," Tonks offered, "and I'll bet Bill could do a bit on Astronomy and Ancient Runes. Moody and Kingsley could help out with DADA. And you'll get more useful History of Magic from just about _any_ of us rather than old Binns."

The twinkle was beginning to return to Dumbledore's eyes as he observed them all.

"It would appear that we are well on the way to achieving a solution," he said. "Minerva can arrange for copies of the relevant syllabi and teaching plans to assist you, and the books can be purchased although it might be prudent to source them from second-hand dealers rather than Flourish and Blotts under the circumstances."

"That just leaves the question of a wand," Sirius said. Now that the issue of where Harry would live had been resolved to his satisfaction, he looked calmer and more alert and energised than he had in a month or more. "I've found a couple of old ones here, but I wouldn't want to risk Harry using those unless we have no other choice."

"Quite so," Dumbledore said. "We may have to be creative on that point. I would suggest you leave it to me for now. We must also be on the lookout for suitable alternative accommodation for both Harry and yourself, which will be a topic to be added to the agenda of the next Order meeting. But for now we will allow Harry to finish his summer holiday with his friends as usual and if necessary his lessons will begin on the first of September by concentrating on theory. Remus - as you have the most direct experience of teaching Harry's age-group, I rely upon you to structure his education while he remains among us. His progress must be measurable if I am to be in a position to let him rejoin his current year-group after the appeal has been decided."

"Of course, Headmaster."

"Excellent." Dumbledore let out a barely perceptible breath. "Then there is little more we can do until Mrs. Dursley has signed the appeal documents. Sirius, will you and Nymphadora convey our decisions to Harry? He must be very anxious after the events of this morning and it would be as well to set his mind at rest regarding his immediate future."

"Of course!"

Sirius all but bounced out of the room; Tonks followed him more slowly, casting a wry smile over her shoulder to Lupin.

When the door was closed there was a pause. Dumbledore seemed to be contemplating his shoes for the moment.

"Professor ...." Lupin began slowly, almost as though he was unsure what he wanted to say.

"I have significant concerns about Sirius in this situation," Dumbledore said, looking up at Lupin.

"So do I," Molly said grimly.

Dumbledore continued as though she hadn't spoken. "While this plan has the advantage of giving him something to concentrate upon other than his own incarceration in this house, we must not forget that the balance of his mind is ... not all that we could wish."

"I know he's not entirely reliable," Lupin said. "All the same, he loves Harry and would do anything for him. I think that'll be enough to rein him in."

"Sirius has not been given an opportunity to recover his mental equilibrium in an unchallenging and stable environment," Dumbledore noted. "His years in Azkaban have left him socially deficient and he undoubtedly feels a closer affinity to the past - to the first war - than he does to the present, especially as he has not experienced the years of peace and normality that the rest of our community have. Nor has he had sufficient adult experiences to mature and temper him, and so he cannot be relied upon to react to given situations in an appropriate adult manner. We must all of us be aware of this in our dealings with him, especially when supervising his relationship with Harry. For all intents and purposes we are not dealing with an adult of nearly forty; he might as well be a young man of twenty. He is reckless, excitable and undisciplined and care must be taken to ensure that he doesn't encourage Harry to behave in a like manner."

"He shouldn't be in a position of responsibility over Harry at all!" Molly asserted sharply. "An impressionable young boy who hero-worships him - "

"Harry's not so easily influenced," Lupin said quickly, frowning, "and as long as we keep an eye on the pair of them, I don't see that it's a bad thing having someone in the household who's a little more on Harry's mental and emotional level than the rest of us. The lad's going to need a friend, someone he can feel comfortable confiding in, because the novelty of being shut inside this house and trying to keep up with his lessons is going to wear off pretty quickly."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, looking at him over the top of his spectacles. "You understand my concerns. But beggars cannot be choosers and you have all amply pointed out the deficiencies in the alternative, so we must make the best of the situation for the time being."

xXx

Harry's relief at the solution presented to him was understandably great. He had been ready to challenge any attempt to remove him to Privet Drive; to discover instead that he was to stay with Sirius and continue his lessons at Grimmauld Place was the best he could have hoped for.

The reactions of everyone else varied wildly though. Harry quickly realised that, with the exception of Sirius and possibly Tonks, most of the adults seemed resigned to the situation rather than pleased about it. Mrs. Weasley in particular seemed to strongly disapprove, although she unbent enough to admit that she would assist in his lessons as the need arose. Lupin and Mr. Weasley were preoccupied with a sheaf of appeal paperwork, ensuring that it was all filled out correctly before making their attempt to get Aunt Petunia to sign it, but Harry was aware of Lupin studying him and Sirius thoughtfully more than once. Mad-Eye Moody gruffly declared himself more than ready to assist in teaching Harry DADA - an intriguing, if mildly alarming offer for the boy after the previous year's fiasco - and observed that they would take the opportunity to teach him some _real_ defence rather than the watered down rubbish the Ministry approved for the school syllabus. And Bill Weasley remarked that it might do him good to brush up on his own astronomy along with Harry - would Sirius object if they set up a telescope in the roof?

No, Sirius certainly didn't object. He thought it was a thoroughly splendid idea, one to add to the many of his own that he was having, and right there and then he sat himself down at the kitchen table next to Harry with a quill and sheet of parchment and began to make a list of the various things they would need to do in order to ensure that Harry's lessons were as good as anything he could have at Hogwarts.

"Item one," he said briskly, as Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys settled around him to watch. "A wand. Dumbledore says he'll deal with that." He jotted this down. "Item two: a telescope, a good one. There might be one in my father's study - Bill can check it for curses and see if it's the business. Item three - "

"Astrolabe," Lupin put in, glancing over his shoulder at them from the other end of the table.

"Should be one of those in the study too, and I know there's a decent globe in the library."

"Star charts," Bill said. "I might still have my set at The Burrow."

" _Star ... charts ...._ " Sirius muttered, scratching them down on the list. "Text books," he continued. "Can't do much about those until Professor McGonagall gives us the list. Don't need to worry about quills, parchment and ink, there's enough to supply the Ministry in the study. You've got a cauldron already - Molly, what about his Potions kit? It'll probably need refilling."

"We'll need the list from Professor Snape first," she replied, unwillingly drawn into the discussion. "Do you need any replacement Herbology equipment, Harry dear?"

"How will I do Herbology and Potions here?" Harry asked, starting to grasp some of the more awkward practicalities.

"There's a small garden around the back of the house," Sirius said. "Should be enough for our purposes."

"We can do most of your Potions work here in the kitchen, dear," Mrs. Weasley told Harry.

"You could do some experiments for us," Fred suggested brightly.

"He'll do no such thing!" his mother told him grimly. "He doesn't need to get into any more trouble, thank you!"

"We're going to need somewhere with a bit of room to move for him to do Charms, Transfiguration and DADA," Tonks said, perching on the edge of the table.

"Drawing room," Sirius replied. "We can shift the furniture out and put some protections up in case of accidents. Kingsley can advise on that."

"And History of Magic?"

"Library," Sirius said promptly. "We could set up a corner of it as a classroom."

"That would be an excellent idea," Lupin remarked, "although we haven't decontaminated the library yet, so perhaps we should focus on that next."

"We've got time." Sirius paused, rolling his quill between his fingers restlessly. "Can anyone think of anything we've missed?"

"Divination," Ron said, and he grinned at Harry.

"Won't Professor Trelawney have predicted him not coming back to school this year and taken him off her register already?" Hermione asked snidely. "I'm surprised she didn't warn him last term!"

"Ouch!" Sirius said, grinning at her. "Divination's a useless subject, I don't see any need to bother with it."

"Except that Harry's already signed up to take the OWL," Lupin pointed out, looking over his shoulder again. "Let's just get him through the syllabus for now and he can drop it next year if he wants to."

"Yeah, but who's going to teach him?" Sirius asked sceptically. "I never took it and neither did you. Molly?"

"Unfortunately, no." Mrs. Weasley looked wistful for a moment. "I wanted to take it but my mother wouldn't let me. I took Arithmancy instead."

"Anyone?" Sirius asked the general air.

There was a short silence.

"I make it all up anyway," Harry offered.

"Excellent. You're well on the way to your own astrology column with _Witch Weekly_ then," Tonks told him, amused.

"It's not excellent at all!" Mrs. Weasley said crossly. "Making it up indeed! Why, it's a disgrace for a pupil to be able to do that and not get caught! Whatever is Sybil Trelawney doing in her classes?"

"Making it up?" Hermione suggested, but quietly enough that only the people nearest to her overheard.

"Cripes, let's just worry about it when we've seen the textbook," Sirius decided, but he gave Hermione a wink in appreciation of her comment. "Maybe it's something you can learn from a book."

"It's a gift, you either have it or you don't," Mrs. Weasley said, but she looked resigned. "I suppose few enough people are truly gifted that it won't matter too much. We'll see. What else does he need?"

"Care of Magical Creatures," Hermione said.

"I've got a hippogriff in my mother's bedroom," Sirius said, but he looked a bit stumped for a moment. "Okay, that one'll be a bit tricky, so we may have to get creative. We can do the theory though. Anything else? Arithmancy? Ancient Runes?" Harry shook his head. "Pity. I liked Arithmancy. Well, maybe if you get bored we can start you on it, eh?"

Harry gave his godfather a horrified look, making Sirius laugh.

xXx

The arrangements were all that anyone could seem to talk about that evening and the dinner table hummed with plans for Harry's lessons and how to fit them in around Order business. Lupin and Mr. Weasley had decided that time was of an essence with the appeal, and so Mr. Weasley would be taking a day off work the day after next so that they could make the trip to Little Whinging. Harry had been a little anxious that they would want him to go with them, but given the security around him now that Voldemort was on the loose this was not practical.

"And in any case," Lupin admitted, "I have a suspicion that things might go a little more smoothly if she has some visible assurance that you're not going to be left on her hands." His mouth twisted even as he said the words, but Harry was unoffended; it was only what he would have said himself had he been asked.

"Now, your uncle goes out to work every weekday morning, yes?" Lupin continued more briskly.

"At half past eight," Harry agreed. "He drives Dudley to school first."

"Good. I'm thinking that your aunt might be easier to persuade if neither of them are there to ... distract her. What do you think?"

Harry remembered the previous encounter between his family and Mr. Weasley. His uncle tended to be a bit of a yes-man in everyday terms, but where Harry was concerned his aunt was quite happy to let him to do the talking and she would back him up at intervals with sharply interjected comments.

"It's probably better if Uncle Vernon's not there," he admitted, but he looked at Lupin doubtfully. "She's quite a tough person even on her own though. I mean, you've never met her so - "

He was interrupted by wry laughter from both Lupin and Sirius.

"On the contrary, Harry," Lupin said, his tired face lighting with brief amusement, "we met your aunt on quite a few occasions before you were born. Why do you think it was me who left the letter for her when we picked you up the other week?"

That hadn't occurred to Harry and it was quite a startling idea that Lupin might have known Aunt Petunia well enough that she would recognise his name on a letter.

"How did you meet her?" he demanded.

"We were visitors at your grandparents' house on a few occasions before James and Lily got married."

"Both sets of grandparents," Sirius added.

"Your father even went to Petunia's wedding." Lupin smiled reminiscently. "I think he enjoyed it, although I'm sure she didn't really want him there."

"What did he do?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Oh, nothing particularly out of the way - "

"Not with your mum's eye on him," Sirius interjected.

" - but he did find the Muggles interesting. He always did."

"Hm," Mrs. Weasley said suspiciously, as she set an enormous treacle tart in the centre of the table. "We all know what a fascination with Muggles can lead to."

"Closer understanding and less bigotry?" Lupin said almost under his breath as she walked away.

"That doesn't work with Aunt Petunia," Harry retorted, just as quietly.

"Of course not. It requires both sides to have moderately open minds, Harry, and your aunt decided a long time ago to close hers to magic. I imagine she's like that with quite a lot of things - bigots are rarely bigoted about just one subject."

Harry thought about this, remembering her suspicions of new neighbours and the vicious whispering campaign she and her friends had orchestrated when the new - and very young and trendy - curate had arrived at their local church. He hadn't lasted six months. And then there was the Indian family who ran a little shop on the corner of Honeysuckle Road. Dudley was forbidden to buy sweets from them and Aunt Petunia always went the extra distance to the Co-Op rather than shop there.

Lupin was watching him with a wry smile. "She's hardly unusual, you know. Wizards are just as bad - in fact, in some ways we're almost worse."

He would know, Harry realised. The reasons for Lupin's poverty and disenfranchisement were entirely due to wizard prejudice against werewolves.

"She's not going to sign my appeal papers, is she?" he said.

"I think she can be persuaded," Lupin replied firmly. "We just have to make it clear to her that it's in everyone's best interests for her to do so. Her best interests especially."

"And you can always Confund her into doing it if persuasion doesn't work," Sirius added.

"Which won't happen because my powers of persuasion are too great, not to mention my sense of responsibility," Lupin retorted mildly.

Sirius snorted. "Always the prefect!"

"Oh - well, we both know what came of that, don't we?"

"That wasn't your fault." Sirius's good humour seemed to evaporate and his eyes roamed the kitchen restlessly, as though in search of a distraction. "All of this would be a lot simpler if I could just get out and about a bit," he said.

"I know, Padfoot, but you need to exercise some restraint for now - "

"Easy for you to say."

Lupin's smile grew even more wry. "You think?"

Harry had a sudden sense that they had forgotten his presence, but he didn't want to interfere by calling attention to himself.

"I think that at least you can walk freely down the street when you want to," Sirius said. His mood was rapidly turning sullen.

"Well, that's debateable but I don't feel up to an argument about it at the moment. Sirius, I know you're frustrated but we need you to hang on if you can. You managed it for twelve years in far worse conditions - "

"That's debateable too."

" - and now that the situation has changed a little, there are all sorts of possibilities ahead. We need you here with Harry, he needs you to teach him and to show him the way to deal with this incarceration." Lupin leaned towards Sirius slightly, his tone becoming more intense and persuasive. "Sirius, he needs you to take James's place. Only you can do that."

They had definitely forgotten he was there, Harry thought, and he knew he should really either draw attention to himself or try to slip unobtrusively away. But he was left out of the loop too much to be ready to draw away just yet.

"I know, I know, Moony, it's just this damned house and the elf and my mother." Sirius covered his face with his hands for a moment, rubbing at his eyes. "If I could just stop _dreaming_ about that place …."

"We can't let you have Dreamless Sleep Potion, you know it's addictive. But there might be other things you can try, things that'll at least let you rest. Having something to do will surely help. And in time there may be another place we can move you and Harry to. Just hang on."

"I feel like I've been hanging on ever since James and Lily died."

"I know." Lupin's face was grim and sad. "Merlin, I know …."

This was too much. Under the cover of the noise everyone else was making, Harry quietly slipped out of his seat and left the kitchen. He went up to the room he shared with Ron and for a long while sat in the window there, looking down onto the dark and grimy Muggle street below.

He didn't fully understand the great weight of unspoken thoughts that seemed to be behind Sirius and Lupin's conversation, but he did understand that Sirius was suffering here in this unappealing house, that it must remind him of Azkaban to be shut inside. And he understood the frustration his godfather must feel at watching everyone else working hard for the Order while all he could do was sit inside these walls and watch, unable to help.

And now Harry was here with him. Harry vowed to himself that he would do everything in his power to ensure that he didn't increase Sirius's burden, that instead he would try to help and make things easier for him.

It was the least he could do, having got himself into this situation.

xXx

Work on the library commenced the following day. Like the rest of the house, it was dusty and neglected and full of random curses for the unwary. After the fourth attack by a particularly aggressive dictionary, even Hermione's patience was pushed to the limit.

On the plus side, they located an astrolabe and globe, both of which Tonks carried off to a quiet corner to examine for curses. The telescope was less of a success; when Sirius located it, it was in pieces and several of the lenses were damaged.

"My brother, at a bet," he said, disgusted. "He could never leave a damn thing alone ... always picking at things and taking stuff apart."

"I've got my school telescope," Harry offered.

"It probably won't be powerful enough," Lupin said, examining the pieces regretfully. "It's not a problem when you can set it up in a place as high as the Astronomy Tower, but we're a lot lower here. Well, perhaps we can find another one. I'll ask around the Order."

"What was your brother like?" Harry asked Sirius curiously.

"He was spoiled rotten," Sirius said with a snort of disgust. " _And_ a pathetic little mummy's boy."

There was a lot of bitterness in this statement and Harry didn't know what to say.

"Sounds like Percy," Ron remarked, and he sounded almost as bitter as Sirius.

" _Ron,_ " Hermione said reprovingly.

"What?" he demanded, scowling. "He is!"

"I was a mummy's boy," Lupin said mildly, before a quarrel could develop.

Everyone stared at him. There was a wickedly humorous smile lurking at the corner of his mouth as he continued to pick through the box of telescope parts.

"Wash your mouth out," Sirius said, but he was suddenly grinning again and the atmosphere was instantly lighter. "You were not! _James_ was."

"He wasn't!" Harry said indignantly.

"He certainly _was_ spoiled rotten," Lupin remarked, still smiling slightly. "He was an only child and your grandparents had him quite late in life. He turned up at Hogwarts with the idea that the world revolved around him and we had to thrash it out of him."

"We never did quite cure him of that," Sirius said.

"Or you!"

"Oy!"

Lupin laughed quietly to himself. "Sirius, this little writing desk seems to be mostly empty. If we clear the last of the papers out, a touch of transfiguration here and there could turn it into a decent desk for Harry to do his book-work at. What do you think?"

"Do it." Sirius looked around. "Let's move this long table out of the window and put it more centrally. If we shelve all of the books that are on it, it could be useful for spreading star-charts on and so forth. We can put Harry's desk nearer to the window where he'll get the best of the natural light."

Hermione gathered up an armful of the books on the table and handed them to Ron. A second pile she deposited in Harry's arms, and the last few she took herself.

"Come on, let's sort these out and shelve them," she said, and she fixed Ron with a purposeful look when it seemed like he might protest. So the two boys followed her around the bookshelves, leaving the twins to help Tonks with the globe and astrolabe while Sirius and Lupin argued good-naturedly about the arrangement of the furniture.

When they were out of sight of the others, Hermione picked a reasonably well-lit spot and used a little self-sweeping broom she had been carrying around to clean a spot on the dusty carpet where the three of them could sit down. They began to sort the books into subjects and authors, although Harry - guessing that Hermione had something she wanted to say - was not really paying attention.

After a while she drew a deep breath. "Harry ...."

"Yes?"

"About staying here and having to do all your lessons ...."

"It's going to be okay," Harry said quickly. He thought he knew what she was going to say. "At least I _will_ still be learning magic. Maybe not with a wand at first, but that's better than if I had to go back to the Dursleys and go to a Muggle school again."

"I suppose so," Hermione said, but she didn't look or sound very convinced. "All the same, it's going to be a lot harder doing all the work on your own here, especially if you don't have a wand to practice with. And ...." She stopped again.

"They're all going to help me," Harry said, staring at her. "It's not like I'd have to try and learn it all from a book on my own."

"But it's not like learning it in a class, is it?" she pointed out.

"No," Ron said, grinning. "It's better, because Harry'll be learning from people like Professor Lupin and Sirius."

"That's what I'm worried about," Hermione muttered.

Aggravation rose in Harry's chest. "Lupin's a teacher," he said, trying to keep his tone level.

"I know. But none of the others are, not even Mad-Eye Moody," Hermione pointed out.

"By _others_ , you're talking about Sirius, aren't you?" Hermione was silent, her eyes lowered in trepidation of yet another outburst from Harry. He held it in with an effort. "What have you got against him, Hermione? He's my godfather - he's trying to do his best for me!"

"I didn't say he wasn't! But Harry, he's not a teacher and he - " She stopped, visibly trying to think of a way to say what she was thinking without upsetting him even more. "Can't you see that he has problems of his own? He spent a long time in prison and everything has changed since he last saw the outside world. Lots of his friends are dead and all the others are older and different. And worst of all, he can't go outside - he has to live inside this house, which, well ...." Hermione looked around, then turned to look Harry in the eyes frankly. "It's horrible here, Harry. I'd hate to have to live here for very long, and I can go outside when I want to. Sirius can't, and he has bad memories of this house as well. It's ... he ...." She let out a little frustrated sigh. "I don't think he's the person he could be," she said finally, keeping her voice down so that the adults on the other side of the room couldn't hear her. "I think if he wasn't a wanted man and could live like a normal person, then perhaps he could adjust to being free again. But while he lives like this he can never recover properly and that - well, it could mean that he doesn't always think straight."

Harry pushed his pile of books away and drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them tightly.

"You think he could be dangerous," he said after a few moments.

"I don't think it's as simple as that," Hermione said.

"Sirius wouldn't do anything to hurt Harry, you know that!" Ron told her sharply.

"Oh Ron, I didn't say he would! Or not _deliberately_ , anyway. But he's so frustrated and lonely and stressed - "

"I'm going to be here," Harry said, looking up. "It's my fault that some of this has happened, so I can at least try to help Sirius by keeping him company and stuff."

"Harry, it's not your responsibility to look after Sirius!" Hermione protested, beginning to look frustrated. " _He's_ supposed to be looking after _you!_ "

"He _does_ look after me!" Harry hissed back at her. "But it's not like I'm helpless or anything, you know! I've been looking after myself for ages - you don't think my aunt and uncle care what happens to me, do you?"

"That's not what I meant - "

"I know what you meant and you can't have it both ways! You can't say stuff about Sirius not being right in his head and then say that it's not my problem and he's got to look after me anyway - "

"Will you both just give it a rest?" Ron said unexpectedly, in a loud enough voice that there was sudden silence in the library.

Harry glared at him, opening his mouth to retort and say something sharp and angry, but the look on Ron's face stopped him. He looked tense and upset.

"I reckon you're both a bit right," Ron continued more quietly after a moment. He wouldn't meet their eyes, but focussed on the books he was turning over in front of him. "It's not a great set-up, but it's not like anyone can do anything about it till Harry's aunt signs those papers and he can come back to school, so everyone's just going to have to make the best of it." He paused, his mouth tightening, and suddenly he shoved the books away. "Us too," he said to Hermione pointedly. "We've got to go back to school without him, remember?"

And he got up and stalked out of the room.

"Oh!" Hermione said in a tiny, stricken voice.

Harry found that he couldn't look at her. After a moment he got up and went to look for Ron.

xXx

Ron was standing just outside the back door when Harry finally found him. The little garden area at the rear of the house was vastly overgrown, with wide tangled borders, a couple of gnarled trees and a pond clogged with dead leaves and weed. Ron stood on the back doorstep staring out at this miniature jungle, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets and his shoulders hunched, his face blank.

"Hey," Harry said awkwardly.

Ron glanced back over his shoulder. "Hey," he said dully.

After a moment he stepped out into the garden properly so that Harry could get out of the door, and the two of them sat down on the step together.

Harry wondered what to say or even if he should say anything at all. He wasn't entirely sure what had caused Ron's unexpected outburst but he knew his friend well enough to know that this wasn't like his usual spurts of temper. He seemed upset, rather than angry - but unfortunately that was veering into emotional territory that Harry didn't think either of them would want to talk about.

"You going to be all right on your own here?" Ron asked eventually, not looking at him. His tone was deceptively offhand.

"Reckon so," Harry said. He glanced at Ron, but Ron was looking the other way and all he could see was his ear and the corner of his jaw. Harry wasn't sure but he thought his friend might be gritting his teeth. "I mean, I'm not really going to be on my own, am I?"

"Right." A difficult pause. "You reckon Hermione's right?"

"What do you mean?"

Ron turned to look at him, his blue eyes wary ... and concerned. "About Sirius."

It was one thing for Hermione to say these things about Sirius and another for Ron to _ask_ about them. Harry clamped down on his spurt of annoyance, and it was his turn to look away for a moment.

"Just because he hates this place doesn't make him dangerous," he said.

"That's what I reckon," Ron agreed, but there was still a touch of anxiety in his tone.

"He'll be all right," Harry continued. "I can keep him company and people like Lupin will be here. And we'll be busy doing stuff - lessons."

"And you might not even be here for long if they can find somewhere else," Ron added more confidently.

"Yeah."

"That's okay then." Ron relaxed just the tiniest bit.

"What about you?" Harry asked, deciding that he had to say _something_ , however vague.

There was a pause. Ron scuffed the toe of his worn trainer on the scruffy, weed-ringed paving stones.

"Reckon it's going to be a long year," he said finally, rather subdued.

"You'll owl me, yeah?"

"Yeah, 'course I will."

"You going to try out for the Quidditch team?"

"Dunno," Ron said slowly. "Reckon I'm good enough?"

"Won't know till you try," Harry told him.

"I could try for Keeper. Maybe."

"You'll be their best chance," Harry told him stoutly, although really he had no idea. He'd only ever seen Ron playing with the twins and they weren't exactly the fairest players to go up against even in a 'friendly' match.

"We'll have to find another Seeker," Ron said suddenly, and Harry felt as though someone had thrown ice water in his face.

He hadn't stopped to think about Quidditch and how he wouldn't be able to play now. But it wasn't as though there was anything he could do about it.

"Yeah," he said, and he winced at the bitter edge he could hear in his own voice.

"Oh, crap," Ron said, very quietly.

That was putting it very mildly, Harry thought, but he didn't say anything. He had been so focussed on his concern that he would be sent back to Aunt Petunia that it hadn't occurred to him to think about the rest of the situation. Not going back to school meant more than just having to take his lessons at Grimmauld Place. It meant not seeing his friends for two or three months at least, and not being able to do things like play Quidditch or visit Hogsmeade. He wasn't a wanted criminal like Sirius, of course, but Harry doubted he would be able to wander around places like Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley all the same; it wouldn't be safe, especially now that his wand had been snapped. Suddenly Lupin's conversation with Sirius the night before _(Harry needs you ... to show him how to deal with this incarceration)_ made more sense. He wouldn't be seeing anyone but members of the Order for some time to come. He wouldn't be going anywhere.

He and Ron sat in silence for some time after that.

xXx

Work on the library continued after lunch, although Harry, Ron and Hermione were somewhat more subdued than before. It was dusty and rather dispiriting work, especially as Lupin and Sirius had apparently agreed between them to do some book sorting, moving any books that were harmless and/or potentially useful to the side of the room where Harry would take his lessons. Harry couldn't help thinking that this particular job would probably keep them all occupied until well after the others had gone back to school, but it needed to be done and Hermione at least took some satisfaction from the sorting process, so they got on with it without more than the odd complaint when a book snapped or snarled at them.

Bill returned to Grimmauld Place that evening to eat dinner with them and present Sirius with a fat tube of rolled-up star charts and a worn but serviceable telescope.

"Fleur found it in a second-hand shop at lunchtime," he reported between bites of his lasagne, "and she says if you need any help with Harry's lessons, she's available."

"That's good of her," Sirius said. "We might have to rotate tutors, depending on people's jobs and Order duties. But we can discuss that at the meeting tonight."

Harry's ears pricked up at this. "Can I be there?" he asked hopefully.

Sirius gave him a sympathetic grin, but shook his head. "Sorry, Harry."

Harry tried to swallow his sense of injustice at this, but the rebellious part of him was silently asking what they thought they were going to do when it was just him and them in this house?

After dinner, he returned to the library with Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the twins and they carried on with the shelving (although it had to be said that the twins spent more time investigating the contents of some of the more aggressive books than helping, with Ginny as an interested observer).

"There's a row of old school textbooks here," Hermione remarked at one point.

"Maybe they were Sirius's," Harry said. He put down the stack of encyclopaedias he was sorting and he and Ron went to look over her shoulder.

"No ... some of them are much older than that," Hermione noted. "Those newer ones might have been his brother's, but these must have belonged to someone else - his father, perhaps."

"Different authors, some of them," Ron said, pointing to the covers. "Different titles too. _Advanced Arithmancy ... Theoretical Cross-Species Transfigurative Analysis ... Poisons And Placebos ... The Curse-Master's Almanac_. They sound cheerful."

"I shouldn't think some of these subjects are legal at school anymore," Hermione said. She sounded disturbed and intrigued in equal measure.

"Are they dangerous?" Harry asked more practically.

"What - the books themselves? I don't think so. The _contents_ ... well, I don't know. Probably."

"Better put them on the table for Lupin to look at."

"What about these?" Ron asked, picking up the newer books Hermione had pointed out. He flipped the cover open on one of them to reveal a bookplate of the Black coat of arms and neatly inscribed initials and a date: _R. A. B. 1973_.

"Regulus Black?" Hermione hazarded.

"Maybe - "

They were interrupted by a scuffle at the door.

"Dirty little snoop!"

"What were you doing outside that door?"

"Unnatural blood-traitor beasts, they must not be touching Kreacher!"

"What's going on?" Harry demanded, staring.

Fred and George were holding a caterwauling Kreacher between them and wearing decidedly unfriendly expressions.

"This foul little sneak was listening at the kitchen door!" George said grimly.

"Don't shake him like that!" Hermione protested.

"Filthy blood-traitors and mudblood brats!" Kreacher wailed. "Kreacher is doing his mistress's bidding, yes he is!"

"Your mistress is dead!" Fred snarled. "She's just a stupid, screeching portrait!"

"They dare to insult my mistress, the unworthy blood-traitors! Oh my poor mistress, poor mistress, Kreacher is only doing her bidding, the only one worthy of service, and watching the miserable traitors who whisper in her house and bring shame on her family's name - "

"What the devil is going on?"

Sirius appeared in the doorway with Bill and Tonks behind him.

"He was spying!" Fred said furiously. "Eavesdropping at the kitchen door - "

"But he couldn't hear anything," Tonks pointed out reasonably. "The door's Imperturbed."

Harry caught sight of the crafty look on Kreacher's face. "Does that work with house-elves?" he asked. "They have their own magic - don't they?"

Everyone looked at Kreacher, who hunched his shoulders and wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. He muttered angrily under his breath.

"But what could he do, even if he could hear anything?" Bill asked, perplexed.

Sirius made a disgusted sound in his throat. "I should have axed him and hung him on the wall with his ancestors when I first came back here!"

Hermione winced, making a wordless little noise of protest.

"How much of a risk does he pose?" Tonks asked more practically.

There was a pause. "He has to follow my orders," Sirius said after a moment, "but he's pretty good at reinterpreting them when he feels like it, and he's still taking orders from Mum's portrait so Merlin only knows what _she's_ telling him to do."

"Perhaps it is time we gave more thought to managing Kreacher," another voice suggested politely, and Bill stood back to let Professor Dumbledore through the door. "Good evening, everyone."

The headmaster glanced around the room impartially, but although Harry raised his head hopefully he failed to catch the familiar pale blue eyes. Dumbledore stopped in front of the house-elf, peering at him over his spectacles, and Kreacher suddenly fell silent.

"Kreacher, do you know who I am?" he asked pleasantly.

As was his habit with everyone but Sirius, Kreacher didn't respond directly but addressed the empty air somewhere to the headmaster's left.

"Kreacher is knowing the old one's name but he is not speaking it between these walls, never! Kreacher is knowing his place and his duty and to whom he belongs."

"Your place is here between these walls and your duty is to your rightful master, Sirius Black, the last heir of the Blacks," Dumbledore continued calmly. "Does your former mistress's portrait tell you otherwise, Kreacher?"

"Kreacher is not answering wicked old blood-traitors!"

One of the twins made a sharp move, his face furious, and Bill grabbed his arm. Dumbledore glanced up for just a moment and his mild glance was enough to quell anything Fred or George might have been thinking of saying. Then he turned back to the house-elf, his eyes fixed on Kreacher's face.

"Sirius," he said in the same conversational tone, "aside from your mother's portrait in the hallway, do you know of any other pictures of her outside of this house?"

"Not portraits," Sirius replied.

Harry saw Kreacher's expression change just for a moment and knew that Dumbledore did too.

"What of photographs?" the headmaster asked.

"Merlin - there are probably quite a few hanging about. We've destroyed all the ones we found here, but Andromeda and Narcissa are bound to have some - "

"I'll tell Mum to find hers and get rid of them," Tonks said at once.

"Perhaps a wise precaution, but I doubt Andromeda's photographs are the ones we need to worry about," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "In theory an oil painting cannot leave its frame and enter another medium, such as a photograph, but I have seen many things in my years at Hogwarts which would seem to indicate that a degree of caution should be exercised. Sirius, I believe we should have a conversation with your mother."

"She's off her nut," Sirius warned. "You won't get any sense out of her."

"Even so. And ... might I suggest a little caution when giving orders to our friend Kreacher here in future? I believe he may be a little confused and require things to be made absolutely clear to him, with no room for accidental misinterpretations."

Dumbledore and Sirius looked at each other for a moment, and Sirius nodded once, his jaw tightening. He turned to Kreacher.

"Kreacher! We don't need you anymore today. You can go to your own quarters and stay there until the morning."

Harry thought Hermione was going to cry at Sirius's ungentle tone as he gave his orders to the house-elf, but Kreacher gave his master a look filled with fury and malevolence and disappeared with a sharp crack.

"Excellent," Dumbledore murmured. "Now - let us see what may be done with Walburga ...."

He had left the room before Harry could make up his mind whether to try and speak to him or not, and Harry struggled with a familiar sense of frustration and anger as he watched the headmaster's retreating back. Sirius quickly followed, leaving Bill and Tonks to speak briefly to the twins before returning to the kitchen.

xXx

The following morning Lupin appeared at the breakfast table wearing a worn but respectable tweed suit, complete with a sober-coloured tie and waistcoat. He looked about as Muggle as Harry had seen any wizard look yet and he grinned his approval when Lupin asked if he thought he would look normal enough for Aunt Petunia.

Arthur Weasley had a little more difficulty, appearing in a pair of tartan plus-fours paired with the bomber jacket he'd worn on the day of Harry's trial.

"Pity," he said, disappointed, when Hermione explained that plus-fours were really only worn by the more old-fashioned kind of golfer. "They're really rather comfortable … but if you're sure."

"I'd better not tell him that Uncle Vernon wears them for golf sometimes," Harry said into Hermione's ear, as Lupin led Arthur away to find him something more appropriate to wear.

Ron arrived and slumped at the table. He was yawning hugely over his toast when a small flock of owls appeared to drop Hogwarts letters on the heads of him, Hermione, the twins and Ginny … but not Harry.

Harry sat very quietly, concentrating on a plate of toast that had suddenly lost every shred of flavour for him. The others were so preoccupied with ripping their envelopes open that they seemed not to have noticed his lack of one.

"Only a couple of new books," Fred reported, skipping the letter in favour of the equipment sheet. "Next copy of the _Standard Book Of Spells_ ... and one by some bloke called Slinkhard."

"I wonder who Dumbledore got to be the new Defence teacher?" Hermione commented.

"Yeah, he was having real trouble with that, Dad says - "

Hermione let out a sudden muffled shriek, interrupting whatever else George had been about to say. "I can't believe it!"

"What?" Ginny demanded.

"I'm a prefect! Oh, I didn't think I'd be lucky enough to be chosen!"

"What's lucky about that?" Fred demanded with a little snort of contempt.

"Yeah, who wants to be a sneak and teacher's pet all rolled into one?" George added.

"It's a very important sign of the Headmaster's confidence in Hermione's responsibility and maturity!" Mrs. Weasley said sharply, banging a plate of bacon and eggs down on the table. "You have every right to be proud of yourself, dear! Your parents will be so pleased."

"I wonder who the other Gryffindor prefect in our year is?" Hermione said brightly. Her face was pink with pleasure.

Ron looked up and Harry was surprised to see him looking pale and shaken. He silently held up a second prefect's badge. There was a shocked silence before Hermione let out another shriek, closely followed by Mrs. Weasley who cast aside her spatula and seized him in a smothering hug, heedless of the twins' exclamations of disgust.

Taking advantage of everyone's distraction, Harry quietly slipped out of the kitchen. It wasn't that he envied Ron or even Hermione, he told himself as he slowly climbed the stairs up to the bedrooms two floors above. It was hardly their fault that he wasn't going back to school, and if anyone had to be the prefect in their dormitory then Ron was as good a choice as any. It wasn't as though Harry knew that he would have been chosen himself, if he'd been going back to school with them. He probably wouldn't have. Would he?

Wouldn't he have deserved it though? Hadn't he done more than them? What had Ron done to deserve a symbol of trust like that?

 _Not fair_ , a tiny voice at the back of his mind said.

Tough, he wanted to say back. When has anyone been fair to me?

But that wasn't right either. Lashing out at Ron was a rotten thing to do; it wasn't as though he'd asked to be made a prefect. Not to mention that he would probably catch no end of grief for it from the twins and Ginny over the coming year. And wasn't it time someone noticed Ron for a change? Maybe this was his chance to shine for once, instead of being just The Boy Who Lived's best mate.

Harry hesitated at the top of the stairs, then turned away from the room he shared with Ron and went instead to knock on the door of old Mrs. Black's room, where Sirius currently kept Buckbeak the Hippogriff. When he looked around the edge of the door Sirius was there, feeding dead rats to the great beast and examining the feathers around his forelegs.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Harry slipped inside and shut the door behind him, then bowed to the hippogriff and waited to be acknowledged before approaching. Harry had only looked around the door before and now he was able to see what the room must once have been like. It was enormous, for most of the furniture, including the bed, had been removed. The wallpaper, Harry saw, was a pale, sickly green colour and patterned with tiny decals of the Black coat of arms, and there was a large chandelier hanging from the centre of the ceiling made of tarnished brass snakes with little lamps hanging from their many mouths. The carpet had been replaced with straw and shredded rags and newspapers which Buckbeak had arranged into a sort of nest in one corner.

"I'm just checking to make sure he's not prematurely moulting," Sirius explained. "We don't want his fur or feathers to start falling out at the wrong moment, in case we need to use him for a quick escape or something. He's an outdoor creature; the fixed temperature in here could really upset his system." He grimaced for a second. "Him and me both." Then he shook it off again and managed a quick grin for Harry. "The other thing is we don't want him getting overweight or stressed from the lack of activity. I thought I saw a bald patch on his foreleg which could be him pulling his feathers out, but I can't find anything now." He patted the hippogriff's shoulder absently. "You're too sensible to do that, aren't you, Beaky?"

Buckbeak regarded them both regally and snapped up another rat.

"You okay?" Sirius asked Harry after a moment.

"Yeah." Harry realised that he didn't really want to discuss how he felt about Ron being made a prefect. He dug his hands into his pockets. "The others have got their letters from school."

"Cutting it a bit fine with them all going back tomorrow," Sirius commented.

"Yeah. Sirius, I was thinking ... could I lend Ron my Firebolt?" he asked in a rush. He had to say it now or he'd lose the will to do it.

Sirius raised a brow, and the restless, frustrated edge on his behaviour seemed to melt away to be replaced by the competent, alert godfather Harry had come to rely upon over the last twelve months.

"It's your broom, Harry," he said. "But why do you want to do that?"

"I won't be using it - at least, not for a while - and he wants to try out for the Quidditch team, as Keeper," Harry explained. It was strange, but putting this into words to someone else suddenly made him feel better about the whole Ron-as-prefect thing. He wasn't jealous, not really, and he could show it by helping out his friend. "His broom's not up to much. I thought maybe he could borrow mine."

Sirius smiled. "You're a good bloke," he said.

Harry shuffled his feet a little. He couldn't help thinking that he wasn't, not really. A good bloke would never have had selfish thoughts about his friend and something trivial like the prefect badge in the first place.

"So, what do you think?" he asked awkwardly.

"I think he's damned lucky to have you for a mate. Go for it, if you want to. I told you - it's your broom."

But Sirius's tone held a definite note of pride, something which gave Harry another much-needed little lift to his spirits.

"So what happens when the others have gone?" he asked, relaxing a bit and giving Buckbeak a little pat on his beak. "Do I start lessons straight away?"

"No idea," Sirius said, grinning. Apparently he too was suddenly feeling better. "We're waiting for McGonagall to let us have your syllabus and we still don't have the standard spellbooks. Now the lists have arrived I can talk to one of the others about picking up a set for you, though. I don't suppose we'll start straight away. Well, the others won't start till the day after tomorrow, will they? I don't see why you shouldn't have one more free day before we get stuck in."

xXx

Lupin returned with Mr. Weasley just after lunch, both of them looking frazzled but relieved. Aunt Petunia had, after some considerable 'discussion' (Harry had no trouble in interpreting this as "arguments"), reluctantly agreed to sign the appeal forms for Harry. Mr. Weasley said he would deliver them to the education office at the Ministry the following morning, adding a little grimly, "I'd better make a couple of copies first, just in case".

Mrs. Weasley pulled all the stops out that evening with a feast to congratulate Ron and Hermione on achieving their prefects' badges, and Harry was feeling buoyed up enough by comradely spirits to enjoy the meal with them, despite knowing he would be left behind the following day.

It didn't hurt to know that the offer of the loan of his broom had been received with stunned expressions of gratitude by Ron - only to be rendered wholly unnecessary a few hours later by Mrs. Weasley presenting Ron with a new Cleansweep broom as a present from his parents for being made a prefect. The excitement over this had left the two of them on the of best terms, the best in fact since Harry had come to stay at Grimmauld Place.

Finally, just as Mrs. Weasley was serving up the pudding, Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived carrying a long narrow box which he solemnly gave to Harry. It was a wand; mahogany and dragon heartstring, eleven inches.

"Professor Dumbledore believes you should be able to use this wand with some confidence," he said in his deep, calm voice.

"Where did it come from?" Harry asked, taking it carefully out of the box. It felt odd in his hand after his own wand and yet there was a curious familiarity about it, almost a warmth in the handle when he gripped it.

"I took it from the Ministry evidence store," Shacklebolt replied.

Harry was suddenly aware that Sirius and Lupin were both staring at the wand with very odd expressions.

"What?" he asked, perplexed.

"How did you manage to get hold of that?" Sirius asked Kingsley, and there was a strange note in his voice too.

"I had an old, damaged wand of my own that was similar in construction," the Auror replied. "I took that in and swapped them. My wands aren't subject to routine examination, so the alarms only registered that I was carrying two wands going in and out."

Harry looked from one face to another. "Whose wand is it?" he demanded.

"Your father's," Kingsley replied matter-of-factly.

Harry felt a sudden lurch in his stomach as he looked at it. His father's wand ... the wand James Potter had been using on the day he died, when Voldemort entered the house at Godric's Hollow and killed him with the Avada Kedavra Curse.

"You can use it within the confines of this house, provided that you're in the company of an adult witch or wizard," Kingsley instructed Harry. "The Ministry won't know that you're underage that way. You should also be able to use it in the garden, again provided you're in the company of someone over seventeen. If you _do_ leave the confines of the house and grounds, though, you can only use it in the direst emergency - do you understand?"

Harry nodded, but found he wasn't able to speak. He was still staring at his father's wand and wondering if the warmth he felt in the handle was really just his imagination.

"I'd suggest trying a few simple spells to get used to it," Kingsley added.

Harry nodded again, but he still couldn't speak. His chest felt tight and he didn't want to try the wand in front of everyone, although he couldn't have said why. His hands were unsteady as he carefully put it back into the box. There were too many eyes on him ... it was too hot and there wasn't enough air to breathe ... the room was getting smaller around him ....

"I'll try it later."

He had to force the words out around what felt like a blockage in his throat and chest. It was no good; he had to get out of there, the walls were bulging and the floor heaving -

Harry bolted for the door, the wand box still clutched in his hand. How he got up the stairs he didn't know, for his lungs felt as though they'd stopped working altogether and only a sense of overwhelming, irrational distress propelled him down the passage toward the main staircase. He thundered up it, heedless of Mrs. Black's outraged screams starting up again behind him, and didn't stop running until he found himself among the moth-eaten shadows of the drawing room. There was light from the streetlamps outside filtering in through one of the long windows and Harry collapsed in the window embrasure, sliding to the floor with his back against the glass.

He couldn't breathe. There was no air. What had his father's wand done to him? Was this some lingering hex of Voldemort's that the Aurors had missed? He was going to die here, choking to death ....

Hermione and Ron rushed into the room, with Ginny at their heels.

"Harry!"

The tiny part of Harry's brain that wasn't paralysed with terror at not being able to breathe wondered why he wasn't simply passing out from lack of oxygen. There was less than ever with them all crowding about him and his hands flailed, trying to fend them off.

Then Lupin's voice said "Stand back, all of you! Better still, go outside. Sirius, let's get him onto the couch ...."

Harry felt himself lifted from both sides and he was all but carried across the room and gently deposited on the edge of the sofa. Lupin put a firm hand on the back of his head.

"Put your head between your knees, Harry. Now breathe! In through your nose and out through your mouth ... that's it! It's all right, it's just a panic attack, it'll ease off in a moment. Don't think - just concentrate on breathing."

But he couldn't breathe when there was no air in the room! Worse, he was feeling hot and nauseous and breaking out into a clammy sweat all over. Suddenly another hand began to rub his back soothingly and just as abruptly the knot in Harry's chest loosened. His breathing began to ease at once and the sickness subsided, leaving him feeling chilled and slick with sweat.

"Better?" Sirius rumbled.

Harry managed a nod and the pressure of Lupin's hand on his head disappeared. With a sigh of relief, Harry sat back. He felt limp, cold and shaky, as though every limb had been loosened at the joints.

"Hex," he managed after a moment, letting his head fall back against the high back of the sofa.

"No, just a panic attack," Lupin reassured him.

"But ... it happened when I touched the wand ...."

"I know, but it wasn't a hex, I promise you." Lupin's eyes searched his face for a moment, then he turned to Sirius. "I'm going to ask Molly to put the kettle on," he said. "Will you stay with Harry?"

Harry thought he saw some kind of message pass silently between them, but Sirius only nodded. "Of course." He held out the wand box. "Just same - ask Kingsley to check this over again, please?"

Lupin took it with a nod and gave Harry a quick smile. "Stay put. You'll feel better for a cup of tea after that."

Harry didn't want to move, no matter how dismal his surroundings. He watched dully as Sirius flicked his wand and set the old lamps alight, producing a low amber light. He could hear Ron and Hermione pelting Lupin with questions out in the passage and felt a guilty gratitude when their voices retreated. He didn't feel up to dealing with other people right now.

"How's your head?" Sirius asked him quietly.

Harry blinked, confused, then realised that he had a headache. "Aches."

"I'll bet. Frightening, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

Sirius gave him a small smile. "Having a panic attack. It's completely irrational, but it feels like you're going to die because there's suddenly no air anywhere."

Harry stared. "It's happened to you too?"

Sirius nodded. "I've had a few since I came back to this house." For a second he looked away and Harry got the impression his godfather was embarrassed, which he could understand completely because he was feeling very foolish himself.

"I don't know why I did that," he heard himself say in a small voice, and Sirius's head snapped around at once.

"It's not your fault and it's nothing you can control. Don't feel ashamed or silly for it! I don't suppose it occurred to Kingsley that you might feel a bit shocked seeing your dad's wand like that for the first time."

"I thought maybe it had been hexed," Harry admitted.

"It's been with the Aurors for fourteen years, so it's not likely, but Kingsley will check it just in case." Sirius watched his face for a moment or two. "Don't be embarrassed about this, Harry," he said. He reached out and squeezed Harry's shoulder firmly. "I know you probably feel stupid right now, but you've had a lot on your plate lately. I'm proud of the way you've been dealing with it all, and really one small panic attack is pretty good going, you know. I can think of a few grown men who'd be gibbering wrecks by now if they'd gone through everything you have over the last few years."

Harry wished he could be comforted by this, but all he could think was that he'd panicked for no good reason and had an hysterical fit like a small child. It was humiliating, especially as it had happened in front of everyone.

"Do you think you'll be okay using that wand?" Sirius asked him, after a while.

"I don't know," Harry said honestly. It was his father's wand. He didn't know why, but he had strangely mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, it was his _father's_ wand. He had very little of his parents that he could actually look at and hold - a few photographs and an Invisibility Cloak. But this was the wand James Potter had been holding when he died - the wand that had failed to fight off Voldemort.

"Don't worry about it. If you can't, we'll find another for you."

"I'm being stupid about it, aren't I?" Harry muttered.

"No, you're not," Sirius said at once. "You have to be able to trust and feel confidence in your wand. If you'd been in Ollivander's shop and had a bad reaction to a new wand, he'd put it back on the shelf before you could even tell him. The wand chooses the wizard."

"It's not that it's a bad wand, I just ... it ...." Harry's voice faltered.

"What are you thinking?" Sirius asked him, when Harry didn't finish the sentence.

"Well ... he used that wand against Voldemort."

"And you think it let him down?"

Harry shrugged. Sirius seemed to consider this, sitting back and staring into space. Presently Lupin returned, floating a tea tray in front of him, with Kingsley Shacklebolt a few steps behind.

"How are you feeling?" he asked Harry, Summoning a small table to set the tray on. He and Kingsley grabbed a chair each and sat down opposite the sofa.

"Better," Harry said, before adding "Stupid," in a mortified voice.

"Human," Lupin corrected him. "No one's going to think less of you for having a panic attack, Harry. We were worried about you. Sirius? Tea?"

"Please," Sirius said, coming back to himself with a jerk. "Kingsley, is the wand okay?"

"It's completely clean," Kingsley confirmed, setting the box on the table. "Moody looked it over as well. Not even a trace of residue on it."

"What about the last spells James used?"

Lupin looked up sharply, and Kingsley raised a brow. " _Prior incantato_ will recall them from it. But why would you want to do that?"

"Could the wand have let him down?" Sirius asked bluntly.

"Sirius - "

"Remus, it's a valid question. That wasn't James's first wand or even the second - it's the same composition, because he worked best with mahogany and dragon heartstring, but he had to buy a new wand just after he and Lily got married because his other one was damaged. It wasn't like any of us could afford to hang around in Diagon Alley at the time, so he could have chosen the wand in a hurry."

Silence. Harry watched them all anxiously, aware that Lupin was looking distressed.

"Sirius," he said quietly, "do you really want to do this? We can find another wand for Harry if you're worried, but I don't see what good it'll do either of you to see the last spells James cast just before - before he died."

"I'd like to know," Sirius said stubbornly. "And we have an Auror here - let's get a formal opinion of what happened. It's not as though we'll see anything else; we'll only see the spells, correct?"

"Correct," Kingsley said. For the briefest of moments he seemed to consider his words. "But it's unnecessary. _Prior incantato_ was performed on James and Lily Potter's wands during the investigation after they died. I've seen the record of the spells they cast and there's nothing to indicate any wand problems, only an encounter with a significantly more powerful opponent."

Sirius frowned, then looked at Harry.

"How do you feel about it? Do you think you can use the wand, or will you have problems?" When Harry hesitated, he added, "I told you, if you're not sure it's all right to say so. We can find you another one."

"No - it's okay." Harry put down the mug of tea he'd been holding and hesitantly picked up the box. The handle of the wand was smooth from use when he took it out and it fitted into his palm comfortably. It was perhaps a shade thicker and less flexible than his own wand had been, but the balance was good.

He flicked it almost without thinking and a long stream of bright blue sparks shot out with a soft and unexpected chiming sound.

"It would appear that you can use it," Kingsley said in his calm way.

"Do you want to?" Lupin asked.

Harry had a sudden vision - of facing Voldemort again, only this time holding the same wand his father had used. The thought was comforting after all.

"Yes," he said, and when he glanced at Sirius he could see his godfather nodding with satisfaction.

xXx

When Sirius had taken Harry back to the kitchen a little while later, Lupin detained Kingsley in the drawing room for a moment under the pretext of discussing some Order business the following day.

"What didn't you tell them?" he asked softly. "About James's wand? There was more to it than just a lack of wand problems, wasn't there?"

Kingsley gave him a very level look. "Are you sure you want an answer to that question?" he asked.

"Yes," Lupin said. "If there's something amiss with the wand - "

"There was nothing wrong with the _wand,_ " Kingsley said quietly.

Lupin digested this. "So you're saying the problem was ... something James did?"

"Or didn't do. Lupin, you don't need to hear this."

"It's a bit late to go back now. Tell me. I'm used to hearing bad news."

Kingsley sighed and went to shut the door. "No one else needs to hear this. Lupin, I didn't see the house at Godric's Hollow myself, but I've read all of the reports on it. The blast from the curse You-Know-Who cast at young Potter ripped a side off the house, taking the sitting room, the dining room, and the outer wall of the nursery with it. James Potter was found in the entrance hall, but his wand was found in the rubble of the sitting room."

"It was probably blasted out his hand," Lupin said, not understanding.

"No, it couldn't have been. When you die as a result of the Avada Kedavra Curse, your body goes into immediate _rigor mortis_. If his wand had been in his hand when he died, he would still have been holding it when we found him."

A pause.

"So he was disarmed first. _Expelliarmus_ makes the wand fly out of your hand - "

"Lupin, Moody himself performed _Prior Incantato_ on the wands after the incident. The last spells cast by James Potter were some simple smoke and light charms - the kind used to entertain small children." Kingsley grimaced at the growing distress in Lupin's face. "I'm sorry, but you asked me. And this is the truth: there is no evidence that James Potter attempted to defend himself or anyone else on the night that he died. Based on the scene the Aurors found, he seems to have gone to challenge You-Know-Who at the door without even taking his wand with him."

"Could he - could he have been put under the Imperius Curse or something of that sort? Something that would stop him picking up his wand or using it?"

"Anything's possible," Kingsley said, trying to be kind. "He's not here to ask, unfortunately, so we have to take the evidence as it's presented to us."

"And Lily?" Lupin asked, although his throat was beginning to dry up.

Kingsley hesitated. "Her wand was found in the back pocket of her jeans," he said reluctantly. "She doesn't seem to have drawn it, but if she was holding the child when You-Know-Who reached her ...."

"You're right. No one else needs to hear this," Lupin said. He turned away, digging his hands into his cardigan pocket and staring blindly at the opposite wall.

"There could be a dozen explanations," Kingsley said gently after a few moments. "Myself, I think it most likely that they were both very young and inexperienced, and they weren't expecting to _have_ to defend themselves because they didn't expect to be betrayed by an old friend. The kind of caution the rest of us exercise as routine only comes as a result of age and hard experience, I'm afraid. They relaxed their guard when they shouldn't have and they paid a terrible price for that mistake."

"Don't tell Sirius," Lupin said, glancing back at him. "In his current state of mind I can't imagine how he'd take it."

"I wouldn't have told _you_ if you hadn't insisted," Kingsley pointed out. "I don't understand why you insist on hearing things like this. You're not a automaton and you're not some kind of repository for everyone else's pain!"

Lupin shrugged. The truth was that he didn't know himself why he did it, not entirely. "I have to know. I'm sorry, but I've always been that way. And _someone_ needs to know, Kingsley, so that we can avoid making the same mistakes."

"I don't think there's much risk of the Potter boy forgetting to use his wand," Kingsley said dryly. "That's what makes this expulsion debacle so frustrating to me personally - he did precisely what he should have done and kept his head in a moment of danger, and now he's being punished for it. I despair of the stupidity of the Ministry right now."

"While I wonder how much worse it can get, if it's merely stupid right now," Lupin replied grimly.

xXx

Molly Weasley chased her offspring off to bed early that evening, reminding them all that some of them - meaning the twins and Ron - still had packing to do, and they could all do with a full night's sleep. They might have been inclined to protest, had it not been for Hermione's instant compliance and Harry's decision to retreat too - for he found himself unexpectedly tired after his dramatic evening - leaving Ron and Ginny to reluctantly follow him. The twins decided that under the circumstances they might as well practice their packing charms, and within minutes of them leaving the kitchen was suddenly quiet.

Mrs. Weasley made a cheerful offer of cocoa, but Sirius went to the pantry and when he returned it was with a bottle of firewhiskey in one hand and several shot-glasses in the other. Lupin, who was studying the contents of a fat packet of parchment from Professor McGonagall, raised his eyes briefly at this but held his peace for the time being.

"I have the various syllabuses and lesson plans from Minerva," he commented, spreading them out across the kitchen table, "and thanks to Molly, we have a complete set of books for Harry as well, so we can get started. She's sent me the timetable he would have used if he went back to school and she strongly suggests we try to keep to it, which I think is a good idea."

"Of course you do," Sirius murmured, the corner of his mouth quirking. "Always the prefect ...." He took a seat and set the glasses down on the table. "Drink, anyone?"

"I'd better not," Kingsley said in a measured tone. "I'm Apparating. Thank you all the same."

"Fair enough. Mad-Eye? Arthur?"

"Aye, I'll take a snort, thanks."

"Better not, Sirius," Arthur Weasley replied, eyeing his wife.

"Right-oh. What about you, Professor Lupin?" Sirius asked cheerfully.

Lupin hesitated. "Just the one, thanks. Don't forget that we'll have a busy day tomorrow."

"Some of you will, that's for sure," Sirius commented, and some of his cheer evaporated.

"And so will you," Lupin replied. "In fact, your life is about to become very busy indeed."

"That would make a nice change," Sirius said dryly.

"I'll see you all in a day or two," Kingsley said, and he got up to go amid the quiet farewells of the others.

When he was gone, Lupin took the shot-glass Sirius offered but put it to one side untouched and folded his hands in front of him. He suspected he was about to start walking the first of many tightropes, but he had to have this conversation with Sirius now or there might not be another opportunity.

"Right. In theory, we'll all be pitching in to help teach Harry," he said to Sirius, "but in practice it's you who'll be doing most of the work - particularly supervising him."

"Of course. Who else would do it?"

Lupin hesitated, choosing his words. "I'm not just talking about the occasional bit of Transfiguration tuition like you did for Regulus," he said carefully.

Sirius had been about to take a drink from his glass, but he paused. "How do you know about that?" he asked suspiciously.

"I've always had my sources. That's not important. The important point here is that you'll effectively be on duty seven days a week. If he's going to follow this timetable, you're going to have to be at him all day - including in the evenings and at the weekends, because he'll still have to do his homework. He's not going to be able to slack off, Sirius, because he won't have Hermione's work to copy from and the only tutor he'll have guaranteed access to is you." Lupin paused, then sat back in his chair. "It's not going to be easy."

"You think I don't have what it takes to teach my godson?"

"No, I don't think that at all," Lupin replied evenly. "I think you've never had to keep a bored, tired, lonely, frustrated and rebellious teenager with cabin-fever engaged in the intricacies of nine different academic subjects."

Sirius looked blank for a moment. "It's Harry," he said finally, although what he thought he meant by that was anyone's guess.

"Indeed. Harry who has recently witnessed a murder, been attacked by Dementors and expelled from school, and is shut up inside this house without his friends and with an uncertain future ahead of him - yet is still trying to study for his OWLs on the off-chance he _might_ be permitted to sit the exams at the end of the year. Who is also a teenager with no real outlet for all his normal teenaged impulses."

Molly Weasley was shaking her head as she stirred hot milk in a pan to make her cocoa.

"So we'll be creative somehow and work around it," Sirius said, still not getting it.

Moody made a kind of "Hmph!", sounding grimly amused.

"As a former teacher let me tell you about fifteen year old boys, Sirius," Lupin said, smiling a little in spite of himself. "They're stroppy, hormonal, manipulative little beasts. Oh, I'm sure that for the first few days everything will be fine and the two of you will get along swimmingly. But the first time he decides he doesn't feel like concentrating or he's too tired or he's just feeling out of sorts for whatever reason - _then_ you'll have a battle on your hands. If you're doing the job properly, that is. You do intend to do the job properly, I assume?"

Sirius set his glass down sharply and sat back, hands flat on the table in front of him. He was beginning to look annoyed. "Yes, of course I do! Why does everyone insist on believing I'm an irresponsible idiot?"

"I don't believe you're irresponsible or an idiot."

"Hm." But Sirius looked slightly mollified.

"But I _do_ know that you're already frustrated and fed up of being stuck inside this house yourself," Lupin continued doggedly. "And I think once the novelty of the situation wears off for both of you, it's going to be a struggle to keep going and maintain the necessary discipline. Which isn't to say I think you can't do it," he said, raising his voice slightly over Sirius's sharp protest, "but I do think you need to be very aware of the problems ahead of you and plan for them accordingly."

For a moment Sirius seemed to be on the verge of an angry outburst. Then his expression changed and he relaxed rather conspicuously, sliding down in his seat a little and picking up his glass again. He eyed Lupin over the top of it as he took a slow sip.

"We were teenaged boys once, Remus," he said at length, his expression unreadable. "Do you remember that?"

Lupin experienced a tiny qualm, but he kept his expression neutral. "Yes, I do. That's what I'm worried about," he said pointedly. Much as he'd expected, Sirius grinned. "Sirius, you have to be clear-sighted in this! You must recognise that Harry _is_ a teenager, with all the lack of self-discipline that implies, and that he _will_ try to manipulate you into going easy on him, whether he consciously realises he's doing it or not. Your greatest advantage with him at the moment is that he looks up to you as a father-substitute, while at the same time he hasn't yet spent enough time with you to be sure of your weak spots. But that won't last for long, so you need to start as you mean to go on and _hold that line_."

"Moony, I'm not thick," Sirius said restlessly. "I get the message!"

"Do you?" Lupin demanded, and for a moment their eyes locked across the table. "That's another thing - you really need to keep it in mind that Harry's not James and he's not you either. You and James were able to fool around in class because everything came so easily to you. Harry's very bright and it wouldn't surprise me if he really flourishes with one-to-one tutoring, but we can't afford to let him slack off, Sirius, because he simply won't pick up the deficit in his spare time the way you and James were able to."

"If he can produce a corporeal Patronus at thirteen, he's more than just 'very bright'," Sirius noted with a slight edge in his voice.

"That doesn't get him out of the bookwork," Lupin replied but he smiled slightly and made himself relax, trying to lighten up the tone of the conversation. "And it doesn't get you out of it, either. You're going to need to look at the lesson plans and read the relevant sections of his textbooks ahead of his lessons, so you know what you're both doing."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he too seemed to lighten up a little. "I'll take it to bed with me tonight. Might help me sleep."

"Do that. I have some work to do for Dumbledore tomorrow, but I'll be back by teatime at the latest and we'll go over it together if you like. Since Harry has a timetable to follow, he might as well have tomorrow off."

"That's a good idea," Sirius remarked dryly, "especially since I already told him he didn't have to start tomorrow."

Arthur chuckled, breaking any lingering tension. "There's more to being a professor than meets the eye, it seems."

"Isn't there though," Lupin said with a sigh.

Molly brought her cocoa over to the table and sat down with the others, looking thoughtful. "All the same … if you're planning to follow the school timetable, then perhaps we should make it as much like school for Harry as we can," she suggested. "Give him a little welcome feast tomorrow evening, before Arthur and I go back to The Burrow."

"That's an idea," Sirius approved, and for once he and Molly seemed to be in harmony. "If some of the others are around, we could introduce him to his 'professors' while we're at it. Start on an upbeat note."

"Explain the school rules," Lupin suggested wryly and he was briefly amused by the mock-disgusted look Sirius gave him.

"I can be here if you want," Moody grunted.

"I think Bill's free," Arthur said. "I'll let him know, yes?"

"And I'll drop a note to Tonks," Lupin said with a nod.

"That's decided then," Molly said, pleased. She reached over to pick up the timetable. "I'd better make some copies of this for you, Sirius. Perhaps we can find somewhere to pin it up."

"We've got a desk ready for him in the library," he said.

"Good. Now, what does he have first of all? Oh dear - History of Magic."

"Lovely," Sirius said, but he was grinning ruefully at Lupin who grinned back.

"You'd better start reading!"

" _Definitely_ going to sleep well tonight …."

"And he has Double Potions before lunch. I'm not on duty till that afternoon, Sirius, so I'll pop over mid-morning," Molly continued. "Then he has Divination and Double Defence."

"Tonks'll have to catch that one," Moody said regretfully. "Still - she's not bad at it, for a relative novice."

"It's not the Defence I'm worried about," Sirius said. He reached over and picked up one of the syllabuses. "Divination, God help me."

"Yes, and probably the one element of Divination Harry doesn't need right now," Lupin said, tapping the syllabus. "Dream interpretation. But he's bound to do it, so take your best shot at it, Padfoot, and try not to let your scepticism sabotage the lesson."

"I'll be objective. That's the best I can offer, take it or leave it."

"I can't ask more of you than I ask of myself."

"The textbook looks fascinating," Molly commented wistfully.

Lupin looked up involuntarily and saw Arthur's wry grin.

"Hm," Sirius said, eying her askance. Then he sighed, tossed back the last of his firewhiskey, and straightened his shoulders. "I can see I've got some homework to get started on, so …." He gathered up the papers, accepting the Divination textbook from Lupin with a grimace, and sorted it all into a tidy pile. "If you'll all excuse me, I think I'll head upstairs. Apparently I have a date with Bathilda Bagshott and it'd be rude to keep her waiting. 'Night Molly, ' night Arthur. Constant vigilance, Mad-Eye." He squeezed Lupin's shoulder in passing. "See you in the morning, Moony."

"Good night, Sirius."

Lupin listened to his footsteps retreating into the distance and found himself staring rather vaguely at the china in the dresser on the opposite wall.

"That went better than I thought it would," Arthur commented.

"Hm," was all Molly would say.

"So long as it keeps him interested, we're all right," Lupin said, coming back to the present with a start. "It's if he starts getting bored or frustrated again that we have to worry about, especially if Harry is at all like his father."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, surprised.

Lupin sighed. "I mean … if Sirius forgets the generation gap and the pair of them gang up on me, we're in trouble. I never stood a chance against James and Sirius when we were at school; they were too quick, too clever, too inventive, and they had a hell of a lot more nerve than I did. Learning doesn't come quite as easily to Harry, perhaps, but I meant what I said to Sirius - personalised teaching could do wonders for him, and he certainly doesn't need any pointers where courage and speed are concerned. All he really needs is the right encouragement and Sirius is just the person to give him that, unfortunately."

xXx

In spite of everything, Harry did not sleep well that night. His dreams were restless and disturbing, and he was aware of his scar tingling and itching almost painfully at intervals. The bedclothes were too heavy and hot, but when he pushed them off the room was too chilly. More than once he was tempted simply to get up, but he didn't want to wake Ron, who also seemed to be restless, and the idea of going downstairs at night and alone, with Kreacher maybe roaming the dank old house, wasn't a pleasant one.

He finally drifted into a heavy, unrefreshing sleep around dawn and regretted it bitterly when Mrs. Weasley hammered on their door only a couple of hours later. Ron wasn't much happier and Harry dragged himself into his clothes more slowly than usual as his friend struggled to dress and finish packing simultaneously. Neither of them said much to each other; there wasn't a lot they could say under the circumstances. Harry helped Ron to carry his trunk and Pigwidgeon's cage downstairs when he was ready and they left them in the hallway while they went to the kitchen to get breakfast.

As he tried to swallow toast and baked beans, Harry was forced to wonder if the twins at least had completely forgotten that he wasn't going back to school with the rest of them. Theirs were the only faces around the table that weren't openly downcast or forcing some kind of brisk morning cheer; they were brightly anticipating the mayhem they would cause from the moment they set foot on the train. Ron picked at his breakfast for once instead of scrounging second helpings, and Hermione and Ginny both looked thoroughly glum as they surreptitiously watched Harry from the corners of their eyes.

"Can I go with you all to the station?" Harry asked finally, unable to bear it anymore.

"I don't think so, dear," Mrs. Weasley said in a subdued voice.

Ron pushed his plate away half-touched. "This is crap," he muttered.

Fred and George looked at him in surprise.

"Why?" George demanded. "Harry's going to have a _brilliant_ term learning stuff from Sirius and the others."

Which Harry knew to be true, but - "I'm still going to be _here_. On my own and unable to go out."

"So?" Fred said blankly.

"You won't be at school," George added.

Harry looked helplessly at Hermione, who shook her head slightly. It was no use expecting the twins to understand.

"Come along, everyone," Mrs. Weasley said firmly, "the time's running on." But she found a moment to quietly squeeze Harry's shoulder in passing and, he saw, Ron's as well.

Fifteen minutes later, having been hugged tearfully by Hermione and Ginny and solemnly shaken hands with Ron and the twins, Harry found himself on his own in the hallway, staring at the front door of the house as it closed behind them.

xXx

Harry had noticed that Sirius seemed to be a late riser by inclination, so it was a bit of a surprise to return to the kitchen and find his godfather there, washed, dressed and downing a cup of Mrs. Weasley's coffee a good hour before his usual time. True, he was grimacing over the taste of the drink, but he actually looked ... perky. He waved the cup at Harry when he walked in.

"Morning! I can't tell if this coffee is bad because it's crap or because it's getting cold."

"I usually have tea," Harry volunteered, feeling more positive already. He'd been expecting to have to amuse himself until at least lunchtime, which wouldn't be easy in a place like Grimmauld Place.

"Probably a good thing too. I'm pretty sure it's the coffee - I have to send Kreacher out to buy it, you see, and I think he buys the bitterest roast he can find out of sheer spite. Still - " Sirius tossed the last dregs back bravely and shivered. "Great stuff for waking me up. I spent the night in the arms of Bathilda Bagshott, the saucy minx, and I don't think I've had a night's sleep like it since I came back here." Harry blinked, and Sirius winked at him. "Bathilda Bagshott! The world-renowned author of your History of Magic textbook - shocking stuff, by the way, I'm not sure I should be allowing an impressionable lad like you to read it. No wonder old Binns always stuck to the boring bits."

"Really?" Harry wondered if he should have simply read the book, instead of falling asleep in class and cribbing from Hermione's notes when she wasn't looking. Perhaps it wasn't all about Goblin rebellions after all.

Sirius grinned. "You'll find out tomorrow, won't you? Until then - what sort of mischief shall we get up to? I've done enough house-cleaning for one summer. We could move stuff around in the attic and make a space for your telescope, if you like. And after lunch we could go out in the garden and muck out the pond, then I could bribe someone to get us some fish for it, what do you think?"

He was so cheerful for once that Harry agreed with everything, only too relieved to see his godfather looking happy again. So they tiptoed through the hallway and up the stairs.

"You know, we need to get you some different clothes," Sirius remarked, once they were past the point where Mrs. Black's portrait could hear them and take offence. "I should have done something about that before - where _did_ you get these atrocious rags? They're almost worse than mine, but at least mine are fifteen years old!"

"They're mostly Dudley's old stuff," Harry explained, and Sirius snorted his disgust.

"Molly's coming back later," he said. "We'll measure you up and get you some new gear. You could do with a haircut too, but I can do that for you any time. There's a charm for it."

Harry ran a self-conscious hand over his hair. "I didn't think it was that bad ...."

Sirius was grinning at him. "You should have seen Molly's face when she couldn't comb it flat! James's hair always stood up too."

"What about yours?" Harry demanded, grinning back at him. Without even thinking about it, his hand whipped out and yanked on a handful of Sirius's long hair, making him yelp.

"Oy! Cheek!" He aimed a mock punch back at Harry, who dodged it easily, and they scuffled playfully with each other all the way to the attic, making several of the portraits on the stairs mutter disapprovingly.

The attic was full of old trunks, chests and assorted rubbish. Not particularly wanting to get into another round of endless cleaning, Harry tested his father's wand with a new charm Sirius showed him for clearing away dust, then they simply piled the boxes up against one wall, reserving a couple of large steamer trunks as makeshift seating for when the telescope was in place. There was already a window in the roof, so they worked on the catch and hinges to get it open and cleaned the glass. Then they collected the telescope and set it up in roughly the right position.

"It'll have to wait until it's dark to align it properly," Sirius said, so they left the attic - locking the door behind them against intrusion by Kreacher, who was ostentatiously and ineffectually sweeping in a nearby room - and went to feed Buckbeak.

Lunch was some sandwiches made with an odd assembly of ingredients raided from the pantry, after which Harry, observing the leftover debris of breakfast as well as their lunch plates, offered to wash up.

"That's Kreacher's job," Sirius objected, his expression darkening for the first time that day, but Harry matter-of-factly piled plates, cups and cutlery into the huge scullery sink and began to run the water.

"It's okay, it won't take a minute."

In the end Sirius helped him by drying everything, but Harry got the distinct impression that he'd disconcerted his godfather by performing such a menial task without a fuss. He wasn't sure what to make of this but thought it best to let it go, at least for the present.

"Are we going to clean the pond?" he asked afterwards.

"Like getting your hands wet, do you?" Sirius jibed, giving him an odd look, but then he smiled and shrugged. "It's a nice day, I'd rather be out there than in here. Let's have a look at it."

The high-walled little garden looked shabby and overgrown in the bright afternoon sun, but it was warmer and more cheerful there than inside the house. Sirius stripped off his moth-eaten pullover at once and Harry followed suit by removing his baggy checked over-shirt. They inspected the pond doubtfully; it was thick and stinking with dead leaves and green slime, there were tough weeds and grass crowding around it and insects buzzed in the air above.

"Maybe we should just blow it up," Sirius suggested pessimistically, but they found a long-handled rake and an old kitchen poker lying in the scrub near the kitchen door, and these were adequate enough tools to start raking out the rubbish. It was a messy job. Once all the weed and slime and leaves were removed, there was nothing left but the stained bowl of the pool and a small puddle of filthy water at the bottom of it. They used scouring charms until it was clean again, and uprooted most of the encroaching weeds from around the sides.

"Forget the fish," Sirius said finally, mopping sweat from his face and neck with the cuff of his shirt. "Let's just fill it with water and jump in."

Harry was tempted to agree. They fetched some lemonade from the pantry and sat on the back step for a while to drink it. It was sunny and peaceful, but Harry was beginning to understand why Sirius was slowly going crazy on his own in this house; the silence and limited opportunities for something to do were very oppressive, even here in the garden. The high walls and protective charms on the property meant that there was little to connect with the outside world, be it never so Muggle, and it turned the garden into a prison yard.

Restlessness made his skin itch and his mind inevitably went to the train that was briskly carrying his friends northwards. Sirius was brooding over his glass, staring into the liquid with his mind clearly miles away; Harry downed his own drink impatiently and got up, going to poke around the farthest corners of the garden. He was aware that Sirius was watching him as he turned over bits and pieces of rubbish that had blown into the overgrown plant beds over the years, and he was also conscious that his godfather's gaze was once again that of a responsible adult rather than the borderline delinquent who had been keeping Harry company for much of the day. Harry turned his back, not sure why this annoyed him.

Moments later a red rubber ball slightly bigger than a tennis ball rolled into the scrubby bushes beside him. Harry bent to pick it up without thinking. He bounced it a couple of times - it was hard and springy, smacking into his palm - then turned to look. Sirius was standing at the other end of the garden near the door and he gestured with one hand.

"Chuck it then!"

"And then what?" Harry demanded, still a little annoyed but curious in spite of himself.

"Haven't you ever played other ball games besides Quidditch?"

"Not since I went to Hogwarts. What sort of ball game, anyway?"

Sirius tutted. "Use your imagination!" And he turned into a dog.

It was childish. It was idiotic. It was probably going to get a window broken or something. It was also exactly what Harry needed at that moment - a mindless way to run off excess energy. Half an hour of throwing and chasing the ball and wrestling Padfoot for it put them both into a much better frame of mind. When they ran out of energy for ball-chasing, Sirius cast a couple of Cushioning Charms on the cracked paving and challenged Harry to try various kinds of hand- and headstands instead.

They were both still feet uppermost when Lupin appeared. He gave them what seemed like a very bemused smile even from Harry's upside-down perspective, but he gamely took his coat off and joined them, managing a wobbly headstand next to Sirius at the second attempt.

"All we need is Dumbledore here to make this seem perfectly normal," he commented breathlessly.

"Pah! What's normal?" Sirius retorted.

"Well, absolutely. Normality's pretty overrated if you ask me. So how was your day?"

"We set up the telescope and cleaned the pond."

"At least you can say you achieved something, which is more than I can. And how was the respected Bathilda Bagshott for you last night?" Lupin grinned at Sirius, who managed a chuckle.

"The woman's a veritable daughter of Morpheus!"

"Excellent! Everything all right with you, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry said, and he was surprised to discover that it really was. "Er … how do I get down again?"

"Bend your knees and sort of ... bring your legs forward," Sirius said, demonstrating.

It wasn't quite as smooth as that, but the Cushioning Charms softened Harry and Lupin's ungainly tumbles.

"Amateurs!" Sirius said, chuckling. "That's it - you'll practice headstands every afternoon until you get it right!"

"Not such a bad idea at that," Lupin remarked cryptically, rubbing a bumped elbow.

Molly Weasley appeared in the doorway, still wearing a travelling robe and carrying a large, bulging shopping bag.

"What in the world are the three of you doing?" she asked, perplexed.

"Physical jerks, Molly," Sirius replied, good humoured. "Handstands and headstands and cartwheels and the like - improves the flow of blood to the brain."

"Improves the likelihood of a broken neck, you mean!" she retorted, but she smiled all the same. "I shouldn't think there's a lot of room for cartwheels in this courtyard."

"Give it a try," Sirius invited, and she waved him off, chuckling.

"I haven't turned cartwheels since I was at school …"

"Hard to catch Arthur's attention, was it?" Lupin asked her slyly.

"Him! Always with his nose in a book! I should think I _did_ have to turn cartwheels." She shook her head. "I'm going to make a pot of tea. If you want one, come inside and help me put these groceries away!"

"I'll give you a hand," Harry offered, and he got up and followed her inside.

xXx

"That wretched Dursley woman has turned him into a house-elf," Sirius commented rather sourly, when Harry was gone.

Lupin cocked his head questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"He cleans up after himself like a little housemaid. It's not normal for a boy his age."

"Put your nose around the door of that room he shares with Ron before you get carried away with that idea," Lupin said dryly. "Besides, tidiness isn't a bad habit for anyone to develop."

"Hm." Sirius brooded for a moment, his previous cheer slipping a little. "That's a point though. He can have a bigger room, now most of the Weasleys have gone."

"Why not put him in the room next to yours?"

"Reg's room?" Sirius turned to look at him sharply. "We'd have to decontaminate it first! Merlin knows what Little Brother got up to in there."

"Have you even been in there since you came back here?" Lupin asked curiously.

"I haven't been in his room since I was - I don't know - thirteen or fourteen, I suppose. Why would I want to?"

The Sirius Lupin remembered had been the most annoyingly nosy individual of his acquaintance, barring Wormtail; nothing had been sacred to him. It seemed somewhat unlikely that he hadn't driven his younger brother equally mad with his poking and prying, but this wasn't an issue worth pursuing.

"Well, perhaps we should take a look sometime and if it's in reasonable shape we could move Harry in there. Make him feel a bit more like ... " Lupin stopped, unsure if the word would set Sirius off.

But Sirius was nodding. "More like family. All right."

xXx

Dinner that evening was a full roast with all the trimmings and a large sherry trifle for pudding. Harry was touched when Mrs. Weasley explained that this was his very own welcome feast, and more so when a number of Order members turned up to partake of it with them. The extra company brought out the best in Sirius's temper too and he was the life and soul of the party, getting into the "welcome feast" spirit and wheedling everyone to tell their favourite Hogwarts stories.

Tonks happily related several of her more notable mishaps, including an accident in Potions where she mixed up the order of five ingredients and her cauldron exploded, drenching her classmates in a mixture that gave them cockatoo crests for half a day. Mrs. Weasley recalled a teacher at Hogwarts whose answer to inter-house rivalry was to cast a charm over the students in one class which rendered them unable to speak in anything but clichéd and embarrassing love poetry whenever they tried to insult each other. Moody surprised them all by recalling a dare that had led to him and three of his team-mates playing Quidditch naked -

"Bloody long game, too," he grumbled. "Damn Seekers were in on it and kept missing the Snitch on purpose. Back in those days, the cushioning charms on brooms weren't designed for bare arses!"

"You mean they are now?" Sirius hooted, delighted.

"Speaking of Quidditch, Sirius," Bill said, when everyone had calmed down a little, "I swear I remember a match from my first year where you serenaded McGonagall before the game started."

Harry got the impression that Sirius was hiding a smirk behind his water goblet, but all he said was, "No idea what you're talking about!"

"Liar!" Lupin said, grinning at him.

"Oh good - I didn't imagine it," Bill said, amused. "I'd hate to think that my brain could independently come up with the image of you singing _Minerva is my bonny wee lass_. That _is_ what you were singing, right?"

"Something like that," Sirius admitted. He was definitely smirking.

"That was the first verse, anyway," Lupin agreed, eyeing his friend and tutting a little. "Fortunately he didn't get too far into the second verse before James dragged him back onto the pitch."

"You really serenaded Professor McGonagall?" Harry demanded, grinning. "What did she do?"

"Nothing," he said, amused.

"It was probably touch and go, but since they won the match she let him get away with it," Lupin replied. He shook his head. "She must have had a soft spot for you, Padfoot, because she let you get away some outrageous stunts really."

"Timing was everything, remember? We could all get away with murder just before a match, because she was always so invested in the score - there's no bigger Quidditch fan alive than Minerva McGonagall."

"Very true …."

"They had this song and dance routine they'd all do before kick-off," Bill told Harry. "The other teams would just laugh and join in, but the Slytherins would stand there going purple in the face - no sense of humour."

" _James_ had no sense of humour about it," Sirius said, grinning across at Lupin. "Remember that? He only played along because he didn't want to look like a bad sport, but he hated it …."

"Why?" Harry demanded, looking from one to the other.

"Quidditch was the air he breathed to him," Lupin replied. "That was the only thing the two of you ever really fought about, wasn't it?" he added to Sirius.

Sirius shrugged, still smiling. "I could take it or leave it, it was only ever a game to me. I was always getting suspended from the team for pulling a prank on the wrong teacher, and it drove James up the wall. He was up for anything - so long as it didn't interfere with Quidditch. I liked to play, but I never took it as seriously as he did."

"Of course, he always _tried_ to make it look like he was up for the gag, because he was very competitive in everything," Lupin added. "No way would he be seen killing a joke in public!"

"He'd sulk about it later," Sirius said, and they both laughed.

"Have we all finished?" Mrs. Weasley asked presently. "Everyone pass me their plates, then …."

"Hold off a minute, Molly," Lupin said, and he got to his feet and tapped his water goblet with the handle of his dessert spoon, making a hollow ringing noise that got everyone's attention. He cleared his throat and smiled. "It's tempting to make a welcome speech like one of Dumbledore's, but I don't have the beard for it so I'll just launch straight into the announcements."

He turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, welcome to Grimmauld Place which, for the time being, is deemed to be an extension of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While you're here, you are expected to continue with your fifth year of magical studies, following exactly the same syllabus and timetable as your friends are following at Hogwarts. But before we get into the details of that, allow me to introduce your teachers."

Lupin walked around the table to stand behind Sirius's chair. "Professor Black," he said solemnly, but with a distinct twinkle in his eyes. "He'll function as your House-Master while you're with us and he'll be acting as your History of Magic, Transfiguration and Charms teacher." He moved on to Mrs. Weasley. "Professor Weasley - senior," he said with a smile. "Potions Mistress, and in charge of Herbology. Professor Weasley junior," he said, reaching out to squeeze Bill's shoulder, "will be in charge of Astronomy." He moved again, this time to stand between Tonks and Moody. "Professors Moody and Tonks will be dividing Defence Against the Dark Arts between them. And last but not least, I'll be picking up Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, although a lot of that will probably be book work and supervised by Professor Black when I'm not available. I also have primary responsibility for monitoring your studies and ensuring you keep to the proper standard."

The corner of Lupin's mouth curled up in a grin at that point. "So I suppose that makes me your headmaster."

"Uppity git," Sirius told him, grinning. "Whose house is this anyway?"

Lupin pretended to ignore this as he walked back around the table to stand at the head of it, facing Harry. The grin slid into a more serious expression.

"All right, Harry, that's the fun part. The difficult role is the one _you're_ going to play. I'm not going to kid you that this is going to be easy, because it isn't. You're going to have to do pretty much everything Ron and Hermione are doing at Hogwarts, and as I already mentioned you're going to be doing it at exactly the same time. But _you're_ going to be doing it on your own and that's going to be hard. You'll have all the same schoolwork and all the homework to do as well. You're going to have to get up on time in the morning, do your homework after dinner in the evening, and probably do some of the work at the weekend if necessary, but you won't be able to go for a walk by the lake when you get fed up and there won't be any Charms Club or Quidditch to lighten things up."

"What Moony's trying to say, in his depressing way, is that you'll have to make your own fun when you get the opportunity," Sirius expanded.

"I'm not sure I would have phrased it quite like that," Lupin objected, momentarily diverted.

"There's nothing amiss with the way I phrased it," Sirius retorted.

"It's not what you say, it's the way that you say it," Lupin pointed out. Sirius hummed a few bars, smirking at him. "You know what I mean," Lupin warned darkly, but he turned back to Harry.

"Sirius is right - as far as it goes - you will need to be a bit creative in entertaining yourself," he admitted. "So long as you don't go overboard about it."

Moody snorted, Tonks and Bill grinned, Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a look of motherly admonition and Sirius just rolled his eyes.

"Okay," Lupin continued quickly, "this last bit is the interesting part."

"Oh, _good!_ " Sirius drawled mischievously.

Lupin gave him a reproving look. "Do try to remember who's the headmaster here, Professor Black."

"Aha-ha! Amusing."

Lupin shook his head and crossed to the great Welsh dresser that stood up against the wall behind the board kitchen table. He picked up a couple of wide-necked glass jars with ornate stoppers, neither of which Harry had noticed before. One of them was empty; the other was full of brightly coloured marbles. He set them down on the table next to Harry, tilting the one with the marbles so that they slid about, rattling.

"The usual incentive towards high-achieving at Hogwarts is House Points," he said. "Professor McGonagall has authorised me to use a similar system here for you. Obviously you're just one pupil, though, so we've adjusted the system slightly." He uncapped the jars and dug a handful of marbles out. "Every time you produce a particularly outstanding piece of work, Harry, achieve something really worthwhile, or come up with a good answer that shows you've really been paying attention - in short, any time you do anything that would normally earn you points at school - you'll get a marble." He dropped a single marble into the empty jar in demonstration. "One marble, one point. Then when you go back to school we'll add up all your marbles and the points will be added to Gryffindor's total."

Harry stared at the jar, surprised. He hadn't expected _that_. "Really?"

Lupin gave him a smile. "Really."

"So I should think," Mrs. Weasley said, looking a little ruffled. "It's only fair that he should have _some_ reward for his hard work."

"Hear hear," Tonks added.

Sirius raised a hand. "Excuse me, Headmaster sir, but who gets to award the points? All of us?" He gestured to his fellow 'teachers'.

Lupin's smile became rather crooked. "That's the catch - "

"I knew there'd have to be a catch somewhere!"

"Hear me out, Sirius! Minerva wants it to be a genuine incentive, not a free-for-all. You can all recommend that points be awarded to Harry, but I have the final say as to whether they're actually given."

"Is that really fair, though?" Bill asked, frowning. "Teachers don't have to get points approved at school. And what about taking points away for rule-breaking?"

"The same rules apply," Lupin replied. "If you think Harry needs disciplining - " he quirked a brow at Harry, who wasn't sure whether to feel miffed or not, and took the marble out of the jar again, "then you can recommend that points are taken. As for the fairness of it, the system at Hogwarts is a bit, well ... The accepted custom is that if one professor is being a bit profligate in awarding points to a particular House, the other professors redress the balance by removing points from the House in question - if it's justified - or by awarding more points to the other Houses. It usually balances out. Harry's balance of points rests entirely with him."

Harry shifted in his seat. He supposed it was fair, especially as the final say would be with Lupin, whom he trusted with things like this, but it did seem a bit as though he would be held to a standard that everyone else at school (such as the Slytherins) wouldn't. On the other hand, he would be taking Potions with Mrs. Weasley, which meant that he wouldn't be getting points removed for rattling the handle of his cauldron or holding his pestle at the wrong angle. So perhaps it _would_ balance out after all.

"Any more questions?" Lupin asked after a long pause. "No? Okay, the autumn term starts tomorrow, everyone. Any problems, especially with scheduling, let me or Sirius know. Harry, here's your copy of your timetable - you start with History of Magic at nine o'clock sharp. Professor Black is raring to get started."

xXx

Harry gave Sirius a wry grin across the table while the others rattled around, clearing the table and getting ready to leave. _Raring to get started?_ Not bloody likely, although Harry had to admit that in a weird way he did feel a kind of anticipation. The jar full of marbles was still standing by his elbow, gently needling him with the promise of all the things he could achieve over the coming weeks, if only he tried hard enough.

And he knew instinctively that Sirius had something to prove too - that he could be trusted to do this one all-important thing for his godson. Too many people were treating Sirius like an irresponsible fool (some of them, like Professor Snape, were even saying it to his face) and this was his chance to show them they were wrong.

Sirius grinned back at him, raising his goblet in a mocking toast. "To Bathilda Bagshott!"

"It's going to be about the Goblin Rebellions, right?" Harry asked, resigned.

"Well yes - but this will be better than the version old Binns trots out!"

Harry eyed him warily. "It will?"

"Of course! Binns doesn't do role-play."

"All ready for tomorrow then, gang?" Lupin asked, wandering back at this promising moment.

"I was thinking about running away and joining the circus," Harry told him. "Do you think that'd work?"

Lupin looked between the two of them. "Do I want to know why?"

"Being able to talk to snakes has to be a crowd-puller," Sirius said promptly, straight-faced. "And no one will recognise the notorious Sirius Black when he's dressed as a clown."

"This is a cunning plan to get me to explain how I hid in the bathroom cabinet when we were fourteen, isn't it?"

"I can see the posters now - _Remus the Rubber Man_."

"Double joints," Lupin said to Harry as an aside. "He's just jealous that he can't wrap his left leg around his right ear." He dug his hands into his trouser pockets. "Seriously, are you both ready for this?"

"I'm starting to think you don't believe I did my background reading," Sirius said. "Ask me a question about the Goblin Rebellions - anything you like."

Lupin raised a brow. "Name of the goblin leader of the peace negotiations of 1429?"

"Ogloff the Uxorious. He negotiated the so-called March Treaty and his companions executed him as a traitor when he returned to their camp."

Lupin clapped him on the shoulder. "I don't believe it for one minute, Mr. Padfoot, but you said it very convincingly. We'll make a History of Magic teacher of you yet."

Sirius grinned. "I knew you were still in the marauding business really! Mr. Padfoot respectfully informs Mr. Moony that he is a fraud, sir. A _fraud!_ "

"Mr. Moony notes Mr. Padfoot's observation and respectfully suggests that he knows where he can _stick it_ ," Lupin retorted, smiling.

Sirius stood up, grinning. "Mr. Padfoot knows when he's not wanted. He and Mr. Prongs the Younger have a busy day tomorrow and bid Mr. Moony a fond goodnight."

It took Harry a moment to realise that this was a reference to him, then he hurried to his feet too, rather pleased to have been included in the banter. Lupin accepted the friendly rebuff with an answering grin for the pair of them.

"'Night, you two! See you in the morning."

xXx

Having climbed the stairs feeling quite positive about his future, Harry came back to earth again with a bump when he walked into the little bedroom he had been sharing with Ron. The extra space was rather obvious, enhanced as it was by Ron's sketchily re-made bed and the small scattering of rubbish he'd left behind.

Harry sat down on the edge of his own bed. A few owl treats on the shared bedside table made him look up at the window hopefully, but Hedwig sat alone on her perch, sharpening her beak idly. Of course, it was far too soon to expect an owl. If Ron even remembered to owl him.

Ron _would_ remember, Harry told himself crossly. Hermione would remind him if necessary.

Would they be able to send owls to Grimmauld Place though? Harry had been able to send owls to them for the first part of the summer, so he supposed they would. Tomorrow at the earliest. Probably not tomorrow morning, either. After lunch then. Except ... what would they have to tell him? _Blah blah blah_ train _blah blah_ welcome feast _blah blah_ new DADA teacher.

Telling himself that this kind of thinking wouldn't get him anywhere, Harry grabbed his pyjamas and toothbrush and went to get ready for bed. Fifteen minutes later he was huddled under the covers with the light out, staring into the darkness.

Tomorrow was another day, a new start even. New surroundings, new wand, new lessons, new teachers. Quite possibly new opportunities, too.

Anything could happen ....


	2. Hogwarts Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron has to deal with his first night back at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is about as lazy as it gets, for I've lifted most of a scene from the book and re-written it into someone else's point of view. And added a bit of text of my own, but it's still a rip-off. Sorry ...

"Don't call them midgets," Hermione scolded.

"Well, they are, they're titchy."

"Ron, you're a prefect! They expect you to help them, not be rude to them!"

"Yeah, right, whatever you say," Ron replied irritably. He watched the group of new pupils shyly approaching them, all very small and nervous. He didn't think he'd ever been that tiny. "Now what?"

"Now we show them how to find the Gryffindor Common Room and where everything is ... weren't you paying attention when the Head Boy and Head Girl explained on the train?" Hermione demanded, exasperated.

"No. I was trying not to beat Malfoy's miserable, smirking, ferrety face to a pulp," Ron retorted.

The nearest first years overhead this and looked rather alarmed.

Hermione sighed. "Ron ... Come on, let's sort them out. I want to go to bed." She raised her voice slightly. "First years, this way please!"

Showing them the way into the Gryffindor common room, explaining the password system, giving them all a brief tour and then making sure they were all settled in their dormitories seemed to take an inordinately long time. By the time Ron climbed the stairs to his own dorm room, the house was settling for the night.

When he walked into the room, two things struck him at once. The first was the plummeting silence that fell among his roommates as all three turned to face him. The second was that although Harry's bed was still in the room, between Ron's and Neville's, it had been stripped of all its covers and pillows and the mattress covered with an old and faded bedspread. The curtains had been removed from it too.

The most immediate impression, however, was that a lively discussion had been going on before Ron walked into the room, and he couldn't help feeling just a little bit paranoid about it.

"Hey," he said warily.

Dean and Seamus were both standing at the foot their beds, and there was a Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch poster hanging off the wall above Seamus's bed which suggested he had abandoned hanging it in a hurry. Neville was standing defensively in the middle of the room, next to the closed heater.

"Hey, Ron," Dean said. He seemed the calmest of the three and his expression was friendly, but he looked a little tense. "Good holiday?"

Ron wondered if he was referring to the part where the whole Weasley family had had to move out of their home for an unspecified period in case they were attacked, or whether he was referring to the part where Harry had lost his Ministry hearing and been expelled. Then it occurred to him that Dean was Muggleborn and might not know much if anything about any of this.

"Not bad," he muttered finally. "You?"

"Yeah, it was okay," Dean said. "Better than Seamus's, anyway, he was just telling us."

"Why, what happened?" Ron asked, looking at Seamus in mild surprise.

Seamus didn't answer immediately, but from the look on his face he seemed to feel that he'd been put rather on the spot and didn't much appreciate it. Then he said, "Me mam didn't want me to come back."

"What?"

"She didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts at first."

Seamus turned away from them and went back to his bed, where his trunk was lying open. He pulled a set of pyjamas out, not looking at Ron.

"Why's that?" Ron asked, astonished. Then he saw Dean and Neville's faces and got an inkling of what was coming.

"Because of your mate Potter, I s'pose," Seamus said curtly.

Ron began to simmer. "And what's that supposed to mean?" he demanded roughly.

"What do you think?" Seamus snapped. "He's a fecking nutter, Weasley, and Dumbledore's as bad - "

"Your mother believes the _Daily Prophet_ , is that it?" Ron shot back. "She thinks Harry's a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?"

Seamus dumped his pyjamas back into his truck and turned to square off against Ron. "Something like that, yeah!"

"And that's what you think?"

There was an awkward pause, the two of them staring at each other aggressively, but Ron got the impression that Seamus was suddenly hesitating. It took him a moment to realise that it might be because he was several inches taller than Seamus and bigger all round generally. Annoyed as he was, Ron couldn't feel anything but satisfaction at this.

"Look ..." Seamus said finally, still with that odd combination of pugnacity and hesitation, but now with a speculative, eager look in his eyes. "You're tight with Potter, he tells you everything, right? So what _did_ happen that night when ... you know, when Diggory died and all?"

Dean stiffened slightly, his eyes flicking between the two of them, and Neville backed up towards his own bed, looking nervous. Ron wondered what had been said between the three of them before he'd walked into the dormitory. One thing was for sure - he didn't like that look in Seamus's eyes and after everything that had happened recently he didn't feel inclined to share confidences with him. If this was the kind of crap Harry had to put up with ...

"What are you asking me for?" he asked scornfully. "Just read the _Daily Prophet_ like your mother, why don't you?"

"Don't you have a go at my mother," Seamus snapped, flushing a dull red colour.

"I'll have a go at anyone who calls Harry a liar," Ron retorted. "Dumbledore's right and Harry's telling the truth, and if you and your mummy don't like it, Finnigan, that's too bad! For your information, Harry's appealing the Ministry's decision and he'll probably be back here by Christmas. If you've got a problem with that, you'll just have to go and ask McGonagall if you can be moved and stop your mother worrying, won't you!"

"Hey!" Dean said sharply, stepping between them. His eyes were wide with alarm. "Look, cut it out, will you? We've all got to share a room ..."

"He's having a go at my mother!" Seamus snarled.

"You were the one who brought your mother into it," Neville said, very nervous but speaking up determinedly.

"You know what?" Seamus said heatedly. "I don't want to share a dormitory with _you_ any more, Weasley. You're as mad as Potter!"

"You're out of order, Finnigan," Ron said, hanging onto his temper by a thread. He wanted to punch the Irishman.

"Out of order, am I?" Seamus shouted. "You believe all the rubbish Potter came out with about You-Know-Who, do you, you reckon he's telling the truth?"

"Yeah, I do!" said Ron angrily.

"That's it, then - you're mad!"

"Yeah? Well, unfortunately for you, pal, I'm also a prefect!" Ron said, jabbing the badge on his chest with a finger. "So unless you want detention, watch your mouth!"

For a moment he thought Seamus might actually push it, as though a detention - and maybe even worse - would be a reasonable price to pay to say what was going through his mind; but with a snarl of contempt he turned on his heel, vaulted into bed and pulled the hangings shut with such violence that they were ripped from the bed and fell in a dusty pile to the floor.

Ron glared at Seamus, then looked at Dean and Neville. "Anyone else's parents got a problem with Harry?" he said aggressively.

Dean eyed him warily. "My parents are Muggles, mate," he said with a slight shrug, "They don't know nothing about no deaths at Hogwarts, because I'm not stupid enough to tell them."

"You don't know my mother, she'd weasel anything out of anyone!" Seamus snapped at him. "Anyway your parents don't get the _Daily Prophet_. They don't know our Headmaster's been sacked from the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards because he's losing his marbles - "

"My gran says that's rubbish," Neville said. "She says it's the _Daily Prophet_ that's going downhill, not Dumbledore. She's cancelled our subscription. We believe Harry," he said simply. He looked at Seamus. "My gran's always said You-Know-Who would come back one day. She says if Dumbledore says he's back, he's back."

Some of the tension in Ron slipped away with Neville's words and he slowly backed away to his own bed. Nobody said anything else. Seamus got out his wand, repaired the bed hangings and vanished behind them. Dean got into bed, rolled over and fell silent, and Neville followed his example.

Ron put his things away and got ready for bed. He was exhausted in his body, but his mind felt like a nest of scurrying ants. He was deeply shaken by the argument with Seamus. How many more people were going to suggest that Harry was lying or unhinged, and that by association so was Ron?

This was a new and upsetting experience for Ron. Previously it had all been experienced at a remove, when Harry was treated like a dangerous maniac in their second year and during the events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but now he was getting the backlash directly. He was being deemed - by his so-called friends, no less - to be as deluded as Harry and it wasn't until he climbed into bed and turned onto his side that his eyes fell on Harry's empty, stripped bed again and he realised _why_ this was so upsetting.

He was alone; there was no Harry at his side. Harry was hundreds of miles away and he wasn't coming back to Hogwarts anytime soon, if at all.

Ron's stomach clenched horribly on the dinner he had eaten earlier.

He felt he could have handled the confrontation with Seamus better if only Harry had been there too. But now every argument rang hollow because Harry's absence was like a tacit acknowledgement that the Ministry and Fudge and the _Daily Prophet_ had all been right - it was a lie and You-Know-Who _wasn't_ back. And Cedric Diggory's death was a mystery that only Harry - Harry who told lies - knew the truth about.

If Seamus felt that way, what would it be like tomorrow, when Ron had to face a school full of people who didn't know him even half so well? Unbidden, the image of Draco Malfoy's smirking, gloating face from the prefects' carriage on the train drifted into his mind and Ron felt another upsurge of rage.

They could go to hell, all of them. He knew Harry and he knew it wasn't a lie, and if anyone tried to say to his face that it was he'd …

With the lights dimmed in the dormitory, the others gradually slipped into sleep as Ron stewed silently in the isolation of his bed.

When he finally gave up and slipped downstairs to the common room half an hour later, he discovered Hermione sitting at one of the small study tables. There was parchment in front of her and a quill in her hand, and she was staring at these items blankly in the light of a single candle. When Ron approached the table she looked up, but she didn't look very surprised.

"I thought I'd write him a letter," she said quietly.

"Yeah," Ron said, and he left it at that.

Hermione found another quill and some parchment for him and he took a seat opposite her without a word. He dipped the quill into her bottle of ink and started to write.

 _Hey Harry -_

He stopped, wondering what he could say. Should he tell him about Malfoy's sneering, or the absence of Hagrid from the teachers' table at dinner, or the new DADA teacher? Or about Seamus and the argument in the dormitory? If he did, what would Harry say? It wasn't as if there was anything he could do about it. Harry was stuck inside Grimmauld Place for the foreseeable future. And how would he feel if he knew about all these things?

"We … might not be able to send these straight away," Hermione said hesitantly. Her sheet of parchment was still blank, as if even a salutation to their friend was too loaded to be risked.

Ron looked up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean - he's, you know, in a _certain place_. It might be risky to send an owl. We should wait."

Ron began to wonder if things could possibly get any worse. "We can't _not_ send him letters," he objected.

"I know. I just think we should be careful. We mustn't use Pigwidgeon to send letters to him, for example. And perhaps we should avoid using school owls if we can, too."

"Hermione, you don't have an owl and I'm not sure anyone else will let me borrow theirs." She gave him a questioning look, but Ron didn't intend to tell her about Seamus; or not yet, at any rate. "If we don't use a school owl, what _will_ we use?"

"We'll have to use the Owl Office in Hogsmeade," she said.

Ron opened his mouth to point out that they would only be able to do that on Hogsmeade weekends and it cost money besides, but he shut it again with the words unspoken. She knew that, after all.

"And there might be other ways," Hermione added. She gave him a tight, unhappy little smile. "I don't know what, but there must be something surely. I don't think the Order uses owls. I'll research it."

"Okay." He was too tired to argue, but his brain was still going around in circles. "We should write to him anyway."

"Of course."

But it was a long time before either of them could think of something to say.


End file.
